by Kova, Elise
Find the void. Find the void, she chanted in her mind. Vi closed her eyes, but there was no darkness. Instead there was only light, and the unstoppable tide of her magic. She felt every expanse of flame, as though it was a part of her. It filled her lungs and seared in her ears, as though trying to lick her mind itself.
The screams cut through to her. How was the animal still alive? Or was it perhaps Ellene and Jayme?
Vi’s head jerked up and she looked around frantically. But it was the same as behind her eyes. It was as though she had been dropped into the sun itself.
Her friends, confidants, the two true allies she had. She would kill them with her own hands. Vi looked down, already seeing their invisible blood staining her skin.
What Vi had always seen as fire was replaced by strands of magic peeling off her flesh. They unfurled as though spinning from a spool of magic within her. Vi watched as they stretched off her, flowed into the air, and knotted into tendrils of pure fire.
What was this power? It wasn’t anything like she’d ever witnessed before. Yet it was as if she’d known it all along.
Samasha.
The word echoed through her like the peel of a bell, bringing crystalline clarity to the chaos roaring around her. All at once, Vi realized she’d never truly seen her magic before. This was not future sight. This was not fire magic at all.
Her power was light itself, and all the possibilities of the world stretched within it—the code of the universe writ large. Just like the glyphs she’d seen winding around the man, and around her watch—this was her magic. Vi took a breath and slowly brought her hands together, pressing her fingertips to make a cage. Narrowing her eyes, Vi focused on channeling the wild tendrils of light and fire to condense, to form a knotted ball of those same incomprehensible glyphs underneath her palms.
The fire subsided, her magic focused on one place. When it was squarely under her control, Vi merely pulled a string in her mind, and watched it all harmlessly unravel. Just like that, the flames vanished.
Vi blinked into the black, barren, smoking field, her eyes adjusting. They barely had a moment to come into focus on the charred bones of the noru, all flesh burned away, before darting to where Ellene’s protective cocoon of rock pulled up from the earth.
It had been split open, and Vi let out a scream of anguish—a sound unlike any she had made ever before.
Chapter Ten
She had killed her friends.
Her magic had broken free and unleashed its true nature—whatever that thread-like power had been—and it had been deadly to the two people who had been closer to her than any others in the world.
Vi buried her face in her hands, wishing she had been the one to burn instead. She stayed curled up on the barren field, naked and uncaring in her grief. The Empire would carry on just fine without her. She’d served her purpose as a ward in the North to keep peace. Romulin could take the throne and her parents—
“Vi!” Jax’s voice broke through her thoughts.
Vi lifted her head, turning. Off to the side, at the edge of the burnt ring, a group stood. Her eyes widened as she looked past the noru—the non-diseased kind—past the two warriors who were still mounted, and landed on Sehra clutching tightly to Ellene, with Jayme standing awkwardly off to the side.
Sehra was saying things Vi couldn’t hear from this distance. Her green eyes, on occasion, would flick Vi’s way. But neither woman made any motion to bridge the gap between them.
Better Ellene angry with her than dead.
“Vi,” Jax repeated, panting as he came to a stop before her. He stood bare-chested, eyes turned up toward the sky. His tunic was clenched in his palm. “Here.”
Vi looked from him to the article of clothing he’d removed to give her. Vi took his shirt and hastily slid it over her shoulders. He waited an extra second with his eyes averted, then looked back. She could see the relief that flooded his expression.
“By the Mother.” He dropped to his knees before her, wrapping his arms tightly around her shoulders. Vi winced slightly from all the cuts and bruises, but his embrace was welcome support. “What in gods’ names happened?”
Where should she begin?
She’d banged herself up falling down a hole. Had an out-of-body experience tangling with the future, again, and then met a man who’d seemed to be more light than matter. She’d been chased and nearly eaten by a diseased noru. And then saw a magic she didn’t even know how to describe unraveling from her.
If she’d been tasked with imagining the strangest, most exhausting day possible, Vi wouldn’t have been able to come up with half of it.
“There was a noru that had the White Death and—”
“The White Death?” She hadn’t thought his tone could get more serious, but he proved her wrong. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” Vi affirmed without doubt.
“How do you know?”
“Jayme saw it,” Vi explained, avoiding mention of the vision of her father and the caged man. She’d tell her uncle eventually. But right now, her head was already swimming and there was only so much she could process at once. “She said she knew its signs from the capital. But even without her account, I had no doubt as to what it was.”
“This close to Soricium…” he muttered. Jax’s dark stubble folded in around his mouth as he pressed it into a thin line. “Let’s head back. We can discuss this with Sehra.”
He brought his fingers to his lips, letting out a shrill whistle. Gormon, the noru Sehra had gifted Vi a few years ago, came padding over. Vi watched it come close, swallowing hard. She’d had enough noru for one day. But she also knew when she was being ridiculous; Gormon was a loyal beast.
Crown princesses did not have the luxury of clinging to past emotional distresses.
She’d already learned that the hard way, multiple times. Whatever trauma life threw at her, she had to bury it, push forward, and move on, or else risk being suffocated by her own self-doubt. No one would understand, or have any sympathy, if she complained.
“Come on, up with you.” Jax held out his hands. “Can you stand?”
“I think so.” Vi took his hands, trying to pull herself to her feet. She let out a yelp of pain in the process and her left knee folded. Her uncle quickly caught her, using his strength to support her so Vi didn’t have to put her weight on what now seemed likely to be broken. “Or, not.”
“First, cleric. Then we speak with Sehra.”
Vi gripped him tightly, looking back to Sehra at the mention of the woman. The scolding would be well deserved, but Vi wasn’t looking forward to it.
“Are Ellene and Jayme truly all right?” she whispered.
“Shaken up a bit, but Ellene’s magic protected her, barely. If you hadn’t stopped the fire when you did, this might have been a very different day.”
“A day I don’t want to think about.”
“But you did have control at the end, didn’t you?” Jax murmured. “The fire stopped before we reached it.”
“I don’t know how,” she confessed. “My magic seemed… strange.”
“I’m not surprised. Given that display, Vi… You’re Awoken.” It seemed much more than that to her. “We’ll discuss it when we’re back. Let me help you up.” Jax laced his fingers and held them down, granting her some relief and not pressing further about her obvious hesitation. “I know you’re more confident riding these things than I am. But that’s usually without a bad leg.”
Vi hesitated, staring at the animal, balancing as best she could on her good leg. Gormon turned his furry head toward her, and Vi saw the dead eyes of the noru layered atop his bright, clear ones. She flinched.
“He’s the same Gormon you’ve always ridden,” Jax said encouragingly, soothingly, as if reading her mind.
“I know.” Vi tried to roll her eyes as she placed a hand on the beast’s dense fur. “I’m not afraid of him.”
“Of course you’re not.”
“I’m merely debating if I can e
ndure your help mounting. But I suppose I shall this one time.” Vi made an attempt at the dramatic for a laugh and her uncle indulged her. Together, it distracted her from the pain as she got astride the animal. Her leg screamed in protest, but could still be moved—marginally—so perhaps it wasn’t entirely broken.
“You settled?” Jax asked with a grunt, mounting behind her.
“Yes, and more than ready to get this mended.”
The cat sprang to life and they bounded back in the direction of the capital of the North. Uncle Jax muttered to himself the whole time.
“It’s a miracle you’re all right. Thank the Mother. I couldn’t have imagined what might have happened if something befell you or Ellene. We should’ve never let you go. I should’ve never let you go. The Senate advised against these hunts of yours as you got older and there was less supervision. I should’ve listened. Mother knows what that boy is going to write in his reports of his.
“But… to think, your magic is Awoken and you’re already learning to control fires of that power and size. We may be able to work with this before you return south…”
The words blurred like the trees passing to either side. Vi stared at nothing, letting her eyes glaze over. She could see her father, kneeling before a foreign queen in strange clothing. He had to be on the Crescent Continent in her vision… so how far in the future was that? Tomorrow? A month? A year? She wasn’t sure how long ago his farewell letter had been written.
Then there was her other vision… and that man. The voice, he’d called himself. He’d done something to her and then left with nothing more than a command to find him again.
Vi didn’t know where to start—the fact that he would command her… or the fact that even if she wanted to summon him, she had no idea how.
Soricium emerged before them. The buildings with bases of stone and second stories of wood blurred past them as the noru bounded down the main streets of the city, heading to the large castle-like fortress at its center. The street forced the noru closer together, close enough that Vi could speak with Jayme and Ellene.
“I’m sorry,” Vi called over. They both turned, startled. “I didn’t mean—”
“What’re you sorry for?” Ellene shook her head. “We’re glad you’re all right!”
“Likewise.” Vi breathed a sigh of relief, knowing there were no hard feelings between them.
The noru came to a stop and Jax immediately swung his legs over, reaching up to help her off. Vi allowed herself the assistance once more. She was far too tired and in too much pain to object. His hands fell on her waist and he eased her down. Vi put all of her weight on her right foot, allowing him to shift an arm around her back to help support her.
“Call for Ginger,” he shouted, loud enough that Vi was certain half the castle heard. “The Crown Princess is injured.”
“You don’t need to make such a fuss. I can manage,” Vi muttered, hobbling alongside him. She hadn’t even crossed halfway to the castle when said cleric ran out.
“Princess, what has happened?” The blue-eyed woman fussed, eyes immediately drawn across the constellation of bruises and scrapes across her body, then to her leg. “Goodness, just what have you gotten yourself into this time? The older you get, the worse shape you’re in when you return from these hunts of yours.” She dropped to her knees, setting her basket down, and began rummaging through it. She continued muttering as she worked. “Hunts, why do we even still call them that? We all know they’re just excuses for you to have a few days out exploring.”
Could she be blamed for it? Everyone had their limits in captivity. But Vi held her tongue. She’d caused more than enough trouble for one day.
Ginger, a Waterrunner, had been sent from the South with Vi from the very beginning. Waterruners made some of the best clerics due to their abilities to manipulate the water in the body as well as change the properties of salve. She’d been the best cleric Vi could ask for—overall focusing mostly on mending her after she fell, or reviving her when she was ill, rather than the recklessness that usually brought those things about.
“When we saw the flame, I prepared. I just knew you’d come back worse for wear.” Ginger paused, hands sticky with salve. “It was you, the fire, wasn’t it?”
Vi quickly tried to weigh the scales of answers in her head. As trusted as Ginger was, she was also a Southerner with deep ties to the capital. However, any word she could send back wouldn’t make it before Vi was headed back as well, which meant she and Romulin could thwart any nefarious uses for information.
Then again, who else could’ve started and stopped a fire like that?
“It was me behind the fire. There was a threat to my person and the Chieftain’s daughter,” Vi answered ambiguously. If there was one thing Romulin had stressed, it was that she owed no one more explanation than she wanted to give.
“A threat? Goodness, of what kind?” Ginger paused. “But that also means you’ve finally Awoken, princess. How exciting!”
“Thank you, Ginger,” Sehra interrupted, as if somehow sensing it had crossed into sensitive territory. Vi hadn’t even noticed her walking over. “When you are finished seeing to the Crown Princess, would you mind tending to my daughter and Jayme?”
“Not at all.” Ginger gave a smile and a small nod. Of all of Vi’s staff and tutors, Ginger had integrated the easiest. Perhaps it was her clerical demeanor—that she saw all people as patients, nothing more or less. Or perhaps Ginger was a better soul. Either way, Vi trusted her more for it. “Just one more second and I’ll have finished sorting the worst of it.”
Vi closed her eyes, feeling the thick salve Ginger had coated her swollen leg with chill to a temperature that was almost ice-like. As it warmed back up in the heat of the air, the pain was significantly reduced, swelling gone. Vi placed her weight on the leg delicately. There was stiffness, some stinging, but, as Ginger put, the worst of it seemed sorted. Luckily the injury hadn’t been too severe.
“It may feel better, princess, but it is still mending so do take care. No running, jumping, riding, fighting, or whatever it is that you find yourself inclined to, cleric’s orders.”
“Yes.” Vi gave a nod to the mostly white-haired woman. She was one of the few who had never seen an issue ordering Vi around, despite their difference in status.
Ginger gave a nod, stood, and departed, leaving Vi with Jax and Sehra.
“I apologize for not checking on you more promptly, princess,” Sehra began and Vi couldn’t tell if she meant it, or was merely saying what would be expected in such a situation.
“It’s I who should apologize to you.” Vi turned to face the woman. “Know I would not have endangered Ellene with my fledgling magic if were it not for the noru afflicted with the White Death. Our lives were at stake.”
“An infected noru? The plague has spread to animals?” Sehra turned from Vi to Jax.
“I was already planning to send word of it to Lady Elecia in the West. She may be able to help get a message to the capital.” Jax never failed to jump at an excuse to reach out to Elecia. The two of them were in a hopeless orbit around each other. But Vi couldn’t read too much into this particular suggestion, given the circumstances.
“I think her mother, Ambassador Amrosah, is still in the southwest region of Shaldan. I can send couriers there.”
“Certainly. I’ll draft a letter.”
A thought crossed Vi’s mind, briefly, that perhaps her uncle would leave her when they arrived south. She would no longer need a guardian and Jax would be far happier with Elecia, Vi would bet. It settled an ache in her that she was ready to ignore the moment Sehra spoke again.
“Thank you for handling it.” Her uncle gave a small bow of his head. Sehra turned to face her, and her alone. “More pressing, for now… Go clean yourself up, and meet me in my throne room.”
Vi kept her face passive, keeping her worry at whatever punishment would be levied against her locked within. “Understood, Chieftain.”
* * *
The stronghold of Soricium could be maze-like for the uninitiated. She’d heard of the castles in the south being rather twisting as well… but it was hard to think they could twist a person more backwards than branches that became bridges that connected to wide platforms before disappearing into the trees themselves in a series of hollowed out tunnels.
It could easily set a person on the wrong course. That is, if they weren’t like Vi, and hadn’t grown up among them. So she had no excuse for any delays other than purely dragging her feet.
Now, Vi stood before an intricately carved door at the end of a long stone bridge, set against the trunk of the center-most tree in the fortress. This was the oldest tree in the world—so the wrinkled men who sat around fires said—and they called it the Mother Tree. It was this tree that was said to have caught a falling star—a shard of the Mother’s light—in its branches. By the time the star finally reached the ground, it had absorbed life from the tree and became a woman. The same woman cut civilization from the boughs of the Mother Tree, forming all of Shaldan.
Briefly, the ruins she’d landed in appeared in her mind. But Vi pushed them from her thoughts. She had more important things to focus on now.
Lifting a fist, Vi gave a few raps of her knuckles against the wood. The doors peeled apart, opening inward by a magic force. Inside, the hollowed center of the tree arched above in a dome. Flowers and vines hung from the ceiling, giving off a cloyingly sweet smell that hung in the room despite half of it being open completely to a wide balcony.
“Come in, Vi.” Sehra was standing several paces in front of her throne, right at the edge of where the tree-trunk vanished and the balcony extended, uncovered, underneath the open sky.
Vi swallowed, accepted her fate, and stepped inside. The doors closed behind her, leaving Vi little option but to cross over to the Chieftain of the North—the woman whose protection Vi had been destined to rely on before she was even born.