Wings of Ruin (Otherworld Book 3)

by Talis Jones

  Silence refilled the room.

  Only when cups had been poured, gently blown, and tasted did Cassandra tilt her head in a way that seemed to dwarf the woman despite being the smaller of the pair. “Tell me what you know of the prophecy,” she purred darkly.

  Israfil blinked. “Which one? There are oh so many, most of which come to naught.”

  Cassandra remained cold. “You know which one. I want to know if it's true, if I am one of the twins it speaks of.”

  A smile teased at the woman's lips. “Been listening at doors, have you? Very well.” Israfil set down her cup and motioned for Cassandra to continue drinking. “Prophecies are a fool's obsession, they are mere glimpses of possibilities and usually so vague as to do more harm than good when one tries to interpret them.”

  “Warning accepted,” Cassandra frowned. “Continue.”

  “The one you are interested in refers to the coming of two siblings, twins. Born of Oneiroi, separated at birth, and scattered upon the winds of the Outer World only to return and bring with them a great change. Unless protected by a close ally and carefully guided by the Whispers, both hold the potential to cleave this world in two. Just the same, both could inspire great prosperity.”

  “What is it the Whispers fear so much then?” Cassandra queried. “That both twins will turn up and ruin this reflection of paradise so carefully guarded?”

  Israfil shrugged. “Surely so, but even if just one twin turned dark the soil of Oneiroi would be watered with blood and that is something we all fear.” She took a sip of tea and leaned back in her chair, her face soft in thought. “Hero versus villain is a much more classic pairing. I wonder if that is not how this will turn out.”

  “Hmm,” Cassandra replied noncommittally.

  Suddenly Israfil's gaze turned sharp as a blade of ice that speared straight through the girl sat before her. “I was there at your birth,” Israfil confessed. “I helped bring twins into this world and with them came a prophecy. Your mother lay dead while I clutched two squalling babes in my lap and even then I could not know, only wonder.”

  Cassandra pushed aside this discovery as it shook her very bones. “Wonder what?” Cassandra snapped.

  “Which would save us and which would watch us burn.”

  Cassandra scoffed. “Wipe that look off your face, woman. I only wish to rise and bring Oneiroi with me. Change is not always the enemy.”

  “You make a point,” Israfil acknowledged. “But be wary of the cause of change.”

  “Are you accusing me of wishing the people of Oneiroi dead?” she growled, flames licking at her fingers.

  Israfil remained still as a frozen pond in the dead of winter, winds gently calling the songs of the lost who once wandered upon its false floor and sank to no return. “I'm warning you of your misguided ambition, Cassandra.”

  With great restraint Cassandra snuffed out the flames and stood. “Thank you for answering my question and for your honesty.” She made to leave then paused. “One last thing. If a twin were to go dark, how are they to be stopped?”

  No pity shone in the seer's eyes. “Blood.”

  In a voice softer than Cassandra would have liked she blurted out a final question, something her heart yearned to know. “My father?”

  “I didn't even know your mother's name. How should I know his?”

  Israfil's callous tone shoved Cassandra's spine straight. “He isn't my real father anyway,” she sniffed uncaring.

  “Nyet, Titus told me you let yours burn,” Israfil accused softly. “Your affinity is water so I suggest you stop playing with fire.”

  Cold-blooded fury rushed through Cassandra and thorns of ice sealed her body like armor, daggers of hate sliding into her palms as if born there.

  Israfil couldn't hold back the worried swallow or slight quiver in her voice but she managed an unimpressed gaze that only prodded the beast before her. “I wouldn't try anything, Cassandra. Titus himself warded my home so that no harm could come to me while I am within.”

  A slow predatory smile creeped along her lips. “Until we meet again.” In a sudden burst her frozen armor shattered, spraying the cosy home with piercing shards, and Cassandra vanished. Stumbling from her sudden appearance in her room she collapsed to her knees. She hated the feeling that came with that particular trick, like all the air had been sucked from her very being. The discomfort faded quickly and in its wake only one thought chimed in her head like a tolling church bell: She was a twin from the prophecy and she was born for greatness. “I was born for greatness,” she murmured.

  A caw yanked her gaze up towards the window. The falcon and the raven from her travels both sat perched upon the ledge eyeing her with a sentience that pulled her together.

  “Hello friends, will you help me?”

  The raven cocked its head in curiosity while the beautiful falcon, bright as the pure moon, fled in what Cassandra swore was disappointment.

  Israfil stared at the handprints burned into her table and silently chastised herself for letting her temper slip. The prophecy was clear about one thing, that the twins were to be guided in love to avoid destruction becoming their legacy and yet something about the girl had needled her until enough holes had been pierced in her restraint as to let her dislike rise to roaring. Fool, she thought sharply.

  Remembering Cassandra's abandoned cup she snatched it up happy to see that she'd drunken all the tea leaving only the leaves at its bottom. Israfil's hand shook as she set it back upon the table. Fool, she wept.

  Chapter 15

  Maps, papers, ink, and broken pens littered the table, abandoned for the spread of food in the corner. Cassandra remained seated, no interest in food just yet. Pulling a fresh map towards her she studied its markings carefully. “Tell me again why the Whisper citadels are all on the fringes of the Island?”

  Kenshin rushed to answer but his muffled response was cut off sharply as he choked on his overzealous bite of sandwich. Medusa rolled her eyes at him as Alexei smacked his back.

  Setting a plate of chicken and fruit in front of Cassandra, Medusa settled in the chair beside her. “Eat something and I'll tell you.”

  With a grin Cassandra sampled the fare then gave Medusa a waiting look.

  “The Whispers use them as citadels now because it's convenient but we didn't build them. Besides, we guard the shores more fiercely than the heart to be sure we keep out any unwanted souls.”

  “Isn't that Titus' job?” Cassandra pointed out.

  Medusa shrugged. “He's a first line of defense, I suppose. However the judgment of each Collector is not equal nor shall it be so we greet each newcomer personally.”

  “And the citadels?” Cassandra prodded.

  “We've learned from our mistakes,” Kenshin answered darkly.

  “Well you've managed to say a lot and yet answer very little,” Cassandra sighed. “But as things are now, meaning how the citadels are defense bases for the Whispers to use, why not build more? Clearly it's been a useful security measure since then.”

  “Why not just build a massive fortified wall around the Island?” Medusa snorted sarcastically.

  “Don't be ridiculous,” Cassandra sniffed. “You'd cut off a perfectly good view.” Kenshin chuckled and she tossed him an appreciative smile that caused him to blush. “I mean why not build a Whisper citadel in the middle of Oneiroi? A central location for the Whispers to convene.”

  All levity left Medusa and Kenshin like a snuffed candle. “That once was the only home for the Whispers,” she murmured somberly. “Until it was torn down and destroyed by traitors to the Island. That was the first uprising, long before any of the palaces were sprung forth.”

  “So bury it,” Cassandra suggested. “Build your might atop theirs and smother it from the record.”

  Medusa shook her head decisively. “We guard the shores to protect the people and the Island but we do not police each burrow and stream. That is not peace.”

  Cassandra's eyebrows arched. “Who said anything
about policing? It would merely be a location of convenience for travel and protection.” Medusa gave her a scrutinizing look while Kenshin looked thoughtful. Turning in her chair she tossed the question to the group. “What about you three? Would it not be a strategic project for both Whispers and Jourdies?”

  Suyin shrugged. “Makes sense to me,” she voted before returning to her cake.

  Tiago for once looked focused. “But who would build it exactly? And whom would it serve?” Alexei nudged Tiago's side but the boy ignored him.

  Cassandra smiled. “A fair point.” Catching an unsettling expression upon Medusa's face she shifted topics. “Let's have some fun. I've been here for weeks studying and working and I'm bored. Not even Titus has graced me with his presence to distract me with lessons since we left for Ailill.”

  “He's away,” Kenshin explained absently.

  Cassandra caught Medusa's glare towards Kenshin. “I didn't realize it was a secret. Although it would have been nice for him to tell me himself seeing as I am his apprentice and all.”

  “He comes and goes as he's called,” Medusa sighs. “Don't take it personally.”

  “Well I wouldn't, except you clearly wanted to keep it from me.” Cassandra's narrowed gaze held Medusa's hostage as excuses failed to form on her silent lips. Just then a caw broke the tension stopping to peck Medusa's head before perching on his mistress' shoulder.

  “Keep that damn bird away from me,” Medusa growled whilst rubbing her head. “Where did you even get the creature?”

  Cassandra stroked his feathers. “I'm not sure, he came when I called.”

  Medusa glowered at the bird.

  “If it's fun you want,” Tiago interrupted, “then you need only wait until tomorrow.”

  “Why's that?” Cassandra asked curiously.

  “El Día de Messorum.”

  Cassandra blinked. “What?”

  “El Día de Messorum,” he repeated.

  “Yes, saying it over and over does increase the clarity,” Cassandra agreed dryly.

  “Day of the Reaper. On the Autumnal Equinox,” Suyin explained helpfully, “we celebrate this gift of life between living and death.”

  “I see,” Cassandra mused. “And I assume it's like any other holiday with food and dancing?”

  “The best,” Tiago crowed and even Alexei nodded eagerly beside him. “This is Oneiroi's biggest holiday.”

  “And it's even more fun,” Medusa chimed in, “because everyone dresses up!”

  Cassandra had heard more than enough. “Then tomorrow we celebrate,” she cheered.

  Alone in her room Cassandra paced the floor. Her costume had to be perfect. She had spent these past few weeks learning the secrets of this town with Alexei, Tiago, and Suyin by her side. Together they'd inserted themselves in with the locals, casually bringing up points of political leanings, prodding the people for opinions on things as they were and as they could be.

  While the general sentiment was that of feeling happily independent from the rest of Oneiroi, Cassandra sniffed out an undercurrent of innocent superiority and she used it to her advantage. Everyone liked to be praised and placed on the side of the right, so she framed each path of conversation to steer the Ailillish locals and passing travelers under the same banner she bore. She had spread her ideas far and wide with good-willed subtlety and if any opposed or suspected they suddenly found themselves with a remarkably altered opinion to profess the next day or else they took a walk they would not return from.

  Tonight Cassandra felt ready to make her first move against the stubborn Whispers planted in tradition's ways. Tonight her costume, not her lips, would make a statement that would carry. Her magic's call to water would have her calm but the more she planned the harder the currents churned. Traditionally people would dress in a costume that reflected their first life, but Cassandra would go deeper and dress from within.

  Weaves of magic settled and with a final inspection in the mirror she strode through the citadel to the front gates with a regal air and she knew her choice a success by the gasps that filled her wake.

  Suyin looked positively gleeful, even jealous, when Cassandra approached her waiting friends. The raven-haired girl was dressed in ancient silks worthy of an empress, something she might've been. “You look lovely Suyin.”

  “Do you even own a mirror?” she gaped.

  Alexei and Tiago's clothing was simple, hardly costumes, but they honestly proclaimed their heritages. While Tiago grinned as wide as Suyin, Alexei bore the manner of a soldier even bowing his head when her eyes met his.

  “What do you think, Kenshin?” she teased.

  The Whisper had also chosen to dress as something he was not but could have been, a warrior of his land. Even with his hopelessly kind face, it suited him. Cassandra beamed as his eyes roamed, his mouth opening and closing utterly speechless. Medusa too seemed struck dumb but for a different reason. No admiration shone in her eyes, only fear and warning.

  Dressed in black leathers adorned with raven feathers and fine gold chains dangling with gems the same color as her eyes, Cassandra rested her palms on the hilts of the daggers sheathed at her sides and felt the part she was destined to play. The weight of the slender ring of gold and jewels circling her brow anchored her further. The prophecy claimed it so she would fulfill it, and she wasn't afraid to fight for it. Not just queen, but warrior. Change would come, and she would lead it.

  Leading the way into the main square with her cadre flanking her, authority poured from their steps and the Jourdies took notice. Inside Cassandra lapped it up like a cat with cream but to those who dared take in her face, her eyes held only cold challenge. Several familiar faces from her covert campaigning joined their group until she'd amassed a small crowd that flowed down the street, following her each step to the main festivities.

  Around them Cassandra watched in soft amusement as children and adults alike darted from door to door with the greeting “I beg life and magic.” If the person answered “Deal” then they gifted them with some sort of small gift such as candy or coin, but if not then they'd best run as fast as they could to a Whisper (or someone representing a Whisper for the holiday as there could not be a Whisper in every town and village on the Island) and cry out “Sanctuary!” before caught and smacked with a stick. The whole affair was amusing and Cassandra found herself almost wishing she could drop her banner and join in.

  Just then a gaggle of squealing girls with wings nearly tumbled into them screaming “Sanctuary! Sanctuary!” before the boy behind them could make his catch.

  Leaning towards Kenshin she asked under her breath, “I don't believe there were fairies in the Outer World,” nodding towards the winged girls now skipping away from them.

  He laughed. “Nyet, but the Jourdies born on the Island have no past life to dress as so they instead choose a costume at random so as to be part of the fun. They get more creative with every year.”

  The moment she stepped foot within the square the music stumbled before pretending Cassandra and her army of revelers had not sent a wave of worry through each not yet pledged. They swarmed the tents, booths, and dancing floors, celebrating with abandon. All except Cassandra and her Whispers.

  “Shall we dance?” Kenshin offered hopefully.

  Just then Israfil appeared before them, her dark eyes taking in the intimidating ensemble.

  Cassandra nodded politely and used the holiday's traditional greeting. “Bon meti.” Good reaping.

  “Bon meti,” Israfil responded curiously. “You've chosen quite a costume.”

  “Thank you,” she replied unsmiling. “You seem to have chosen none.”

  Israfil's eyes narrowed at the veiled insult and took her leave.

  “Must you antagonize everyone you meet, even on holidays?” Medusa moaned.

  Cassandra linked her arm with hers. “And yet you love me for it,” she laughed. “Come, let's get some cider.” As they strode towards the nearest vendor she called over her shoulder, “And I exp
ect you to save me a dance!”

  Kenshin grinned thinking this happiest of days would be one of many, little did he know it would be the mark of his last.

  Chapter 16

  Cassandra meandered through the crowd, stopping for food and drink as she pleased. With a warm smile she offered the holiday greeting “Bon meti” and laughingly protected those who sought her as “Sanctuary” in their games. Without fatigue she danced and shook hands, she won over each Jourdie she crossed. Still, she needed a test to prove herself. Actions, she knew, often spoke louder than words.

  Spying Anya, a wicked plan sprouted to life. A careful weave of coercion, a forbidden magic, and Anya found herself irritated by everything and everyone. Her drink was too warm, her clothes too scratchy, the music too loud... Suddenly a few Jourdie children raced towards her, clutching at her skirts laughing and screaming “Sanctuary!” at the top of their lungs in a shrill tone that made Anya grit her teeth. Overwhelmed by her irritation she shoved them off of her causing the little ones to stumble and fall.

  “Hey!” Someone shouted angrily. A few others helped the children stand and soothed those that cried.

  “What?” she snapped harshly. She couldn't understand why she was so out of sorts. Everything bothered her and she couldn't seem to calm down.

  Cassandra waited in the shadows, obscured by a stall selling apple tarts, as more words were swapped like daggers before rushing in. “What's going on here?” she demanded, her spine straight and her face nothing short of queenly.

  “That nothus pushed these children to the ground! They were just playing and she threw them aside like vermin!” A man growled.

  “Anya, is this true?” Cassandra asked calmly.

  Anya looked back and forth at all the faces around her finding no friend in sight. “I...I...well, they were shrieking and tearing my costume!”

  Maternal disappointment tugged down Cassandra's face into a frown. “Anya, how could you be so callous. You are a Whisper, of course they came running to you.”