by Kova, Elise
“But your mother didn’t want to give you up.” Vi’s mind wandered back to her own mother. Vhalla had made that terrible choice to give Vi up for such an excruciatingly long stretch. But if she hadn’t… If the North had attacked during the rise of the Mad King, her mother and father may not have lived long enough to see Vi into the world.
“No, she said they were wrong. That I was merely a troubled boy, not afflicted by words of the goddess.” Taavin raised a hand, running it down the side of his face over the crescent-shaped scar on his cheek. “The struggle wasn’t much. What could a boy and a young woman do against Ulvarth and the Swords of Light?”
“You tried to defend her.” The scar had an explanation, and a terrible, gut-wrenching one at that.
“I did. They wouldn’t kill me… No… Ulvarth needed me alive. But he didn’t need me unbroken.”
“I’m sorry,” she breathed. It wasn’t nearly enough. Taavin didn’t even address the paltry attempt at consolation.
“She loved me. So she defended me and died for it. If she had agreed to Ulvarth’s demands, she would still be alive. Bad things happen to those I love and who love me. So I swore I’d never love again and put someone at risk.”
Vi closed her eyes, ignoring the dull ache the words inspired. The halfway status of their relationship, the questions, the time spent wondering what they were… He’d never give them anything more than he already had, she realized. She heard it clearly between his words: I can’t let myself love you.
Despite all she’d been though, that realization may have hurt the most.
“We should go to sleep,” Vi murmured and extinguished the flame.
“We should,” he agreed and, within moments, his heavy breathing told her that he had, finally, allowed the world to slip away.
But Vi was still very much grounded in the world. It was a world of men who cut down women to take their children. A world of red lightning.
A world where she had somehow allowed someone into her heart who may not want to be there.
Chapter Six
Taavin had gotten worse.
“You should drink something.” Vi tapped his cheek gently. His head was limp, chin against his chest. “You haven’t drank anything for two days.”
His bloodshot eyes cracked open, blinking slowly in the dim light. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Two nights ago, when she’d returned from the red lightning incident in the wood, she’d thought she was cold from fear—that was why he’d seemed so warm to her. But the fever had been ravaging him then. Now, the infection from his broken bones and festering wounds continued to spread.
“Taavin, please, the fever is taking water from you; even if you don’t feel you’re thirsty, you need to drink.”
“Vi…” His lips barely moved as he spoke.
“I’m here, it’s me.” She held out the wide, flat leaf she’d been cupping in her hand and using as a bowl to ferry water into the cave. “Please, drink.”
“I…”
“Please.” Vi brought the edge of the leaf to his lips. Taavin didn’t have the energy to object further. Most of the water dribbled down his chin and onto his lap, but some got into his mouth. Surely, some had. “Good, that’s it.”
The knot in his throat bobbed and Taavin’s eyes closed. Vi set the leaf to the side. He was fading. She didn’t have to be a cleric to know when someone was dying.
“I’m going to find help,” Vi whispered. A foolish and dangerous idea had been forming in her head for days now. One that she became less able to shake with each passing morning as he woke worse than the last. “Stay here, and hang on.”
Vi emerged from the cave into the familiar haze of the Twilight Forest and struck out upstream as she had all those mornings ago. Part of her was already sick with the notion of what she was about to do. But there was no other choice. Inaction would result in Taavin’s death. At least this way he’d have a chance.
How long had she walked that first day? Long enough for her mind to wander… but she hadn’t really been paying attention to any actual distances. Vi’s eyes scanned the trees to the edge of where the horizon became hazy, looking for a tell-tale wobble in reality itself.
Finding none, Vi stepped off the rocky riverbank and onto the leafy carpet of the forest. She hadn’t found the last tear along the water—it had been in the woods itself.
Vi looked back the way she’d come. No other option, she repeated to herself. Going back meant Taavin’s death. And that was a reality Vi was not about to face.
Tree by tree, Vi ran her fingers along the bark. Her spark tingled beneath her flesh, heating the air between her and the tree. She left singed fingerprints in her wake on every tree she passed. They were signposts for her to use to find her way back, and Vi sincerely hoped she would need to use them—that this foolish notion wouldn’t kill her.
The sun was hanging low in the horizon and Vi had lost count of how many trees she’d marked when she finally saw a flash of red light. It was a tiny spark, barely perceptible in the wash of sunset amber. But it was the hope she’d been searching for.
Vi approached the abnormality in the fabric of reality with caution. Another tree had fallen, but this time, rather than landing on the ground, it was propped against its neighboring tree. Tiny bolts of red magic, like ominous fireflies, darted back and forth between the fallen tree and the ground. Scraps of bark were sheered off and hung at an odd angle, dangling in the air—perfectly still, even when breezes swept through the forest enough to rustle the leaves at her feet.
It had been the storm, Vi decided. The bolts of red lightning had struck trees in the forest, creating these abnormalities. She wondered if she went back to the bluffs, would she find red lightning crackling among dead grasses, like footprints of an angry god?
Murmuring returned to the back of her mind, the closer she came to the tree of red lightning. It was a dull, pulsing sensation, but one Vi knew would become sharper if she drew closer.
When she drew closer.
Vi watched the shimmering air in the triangle created by the upright tree, the lightning-struck tree leaning against it, and the ground below. She watched, and waited, keeping her distance. She waited long enough that her feet ached from her toes digging into the ground through the worn-thin soles of her shoes. It wasn’t until twilight had fallen on the forest in earnest that Vi caught the first glimpse of the kingdom shimmering beyond—this time more clearly than the last.
Taavin’s theory was that Raspian’s magic had worn away the shift protecting the Twilight Kingdom—however that worked. It was time to put his theory to the test.
Vi gripped the watch around her neck so tightly that she feared she would break it. But that didn’t prompt her to unfurl her fingers.
“Yargen, protect me.” Vi didn’t know if it was a prayer, a demand, or just a wish. She’d take all three, if that’s what got her through.
Shifting her feet, Vi launched herself forward like an arrow loosed from the bowstring. Each step was wider than her usual gait, intended to build momentum as quickly as possible. Her body tipped forward, running head-first toward the pulsating air that grew more violent with red magic by the second. She threw her entire weight behind every step. There was no turning back.
There was only one way for her now—into the breach.
Every muscle in her body tensed on impact, ready for the agony she knew was coming. Lightning flared on all sides of her, blinding her, trying to snarl her in its brutal embrace. Vi kept pumping her legs, pushing herself forward, but she didn’t know what she was pushing against.
Her eyes had closed instinctively, but now she forced them open. Lightning danced before her vision. It looked as though it was behind her eyes, shooting through her skull—in one ear and out the other. Between every bolt was nothing but pure darkness.
She clutched the watch tighter as the cacophony grew so loud, Vi could barely manage a thought beyond forward. She had to keep moving forward. She’d either free herself and be on the other
side of this terrible bramble of magic in a world beyond, or she’d push straight through to the Twilight Kingdom as she’d hoped.
A thousand hands worked to keep her back as a thousand voices screamed at her all at once. Vi ignored the feeling of every electric grasp on her body. She ignored the noise as best she could.
Chapter Seven
The word resounded in her chest and Vi realized she’d been saying it aloud the whole time. That was fine. It drowned out Raspian’s call for her death. It kept her feet moving. It kept him from claiming her.
Underneath her hand, the watch seared white-hot. It throbbed with every pulse of magic washing over Vi’s body. Forward, and don’t let go. If she let go of the watch, she let go of Yargen. Without Yargen’s magic protecting her, Vi knew she would’ve already been torn apart.
Her long march suddenly had an end. In the distance, beyond the flashes of lightning, there was darkness. Perhaps, it was death waiting for her. Either way, Vi continued relentlessly on and, with a shout, she freed herself of the clutches of Raspian’s magic.
Vi took in a gasping breath, only to find the air suddenly thin. Suffocating darkness was around her, so thick that not even air could exist here. She opened her mouth, not getting enough air through her nose alone. But there was no more to be had in this still, blank space.
Still, she forced herself to take a step, and then another.
With every inch, cool light flared underneath her feet until it condensed into a shimmering, solid form. The glowing blue path of magic hardened into stone guided her through the darkness and toward the twilight. Every step brought magic rippling over her like wind, giving her a brief reprieve before the darkness closed in again. But just when her head was throbbing and her eyes felt as though they might explode from her skull, the world slowly rebuilt itself before her eyes.
It was not the world she’d known. The Twilight Forest had vanished before her eyes and was now replaced by a city appearing through shadowy trees that barely had form. With every step closer, there was a brief flash of air, then sound, then light.
Vi emerged from between two dark trees, which seemed now more solid than shadow, and collapsed to her knees. Surrounding her were shards of pale blue stone; they fell off her, like shards of glass, fading to a dull black stone as they hit the ground. She gulped in heaving breaths. Air had never tasted so fresh, or felt so good. Her eyes were blurry, face wet. Vi didn’t know if it was from involuntary tears brought on by pain, sweat from the exertion, or immense relief to have made it through.
Likely all three.
Vi rubbed her eyes, sank to her heels, and blinked, taking in the new world before her. It was a city nestled in a valley. Tall ridges extended up on all sides, lined with the same dark trees that were now at Vi’s back. It was as if the trees were made of smoke—less solid the farther back one went, turning into wisps of magic that trailed up to form a hazy barrier around the Twilight Kingdom.
A metropolis of wooded magic lit up before her. Large buildings with rope-bridges suspended between them towered overtop wide fauna that served as roofs for bustling markets and businesses below. The construction reminded her somewhat of the North, but with more glass and fitted stone. There were no Groundbreakers here, Vi reminded herself.
There were balconies of glass, shining in the moonlight. Some homes had siding that looked like dark metal laid in a pattern that reminded Vi of snake scales. Wood blended into metal set into stone. Nothing seemed right, yet it all connected.
Vi’s eyes drifted upward to a moon that had never felt so close. She swallowed hard, her vision of the world’s end seared in her memory. Like that vision, this moon, too, was rimmed in a bloody corona, stretching out into the stars scattered on a perpetually dusky sky.
Even here, Raspian had sunk in his claws. Vi wondered how long it would be until the moon in her world looked much the same. And that was when a terrible thought crossed her mind…
What if Taavin’s injuries were not fully a result of Fallor’s attack? What if the voice was falling prey to Raspian’s effects on their world? And if he was—what did that mean for her own susceptibility to the spreading darkness?
Vi gripped her knees, hanging her head. Perhaps that was why, despite Taavin’s allegedly superior healing abilities, he was so injured. Vi sniffed, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. Memories of the White Death—of the clinic in Soricium—drifted through her mind.
No.
She wouldn’t let this be his end.
Vi struggled to her feet, using the tree next to her for support. Somewhere in the city beneath her were clerics. She would find one and she would bring him or her back to Taavin by any means necessary.
With one shaky footstep after the next, Vi descended into the Twilight Kingdom.
Chapter Eight
Vi made short work of the walk down the grassy, sloping ridge that ringed the bustling metropolis. Leaning against the back wall of a building right at the edge of the city—Vi took a quick assessment of herself.
Her clothes were ratty and torn. They were sun bleached and salt damaged, hanging like rags on the line that was her too-thin frame. Vi pressed at her stomach and hips. There was less muscle there than she was used to and far less than she’d like.
Rubbing her temples, Vi tried to maintain her focus. It was a difficult task. Her head was still splitting and she could feel the invisible scars of Raspian’s infernal lightning on the underside of her skin.
“Think, Vi,” she commanded herself. Hearing her voice aloud helped her brain return to task. She glanced around the corner, looking at the group of people lounging on a shared patio area between two buildings.
They didn’t seem to notice her, too busy carrying on laughing, drinking, and playing some kind of game Vi couldn’t see and doubted she would recognize. She mostly ignored the conversation—which, fortunately, was carried out in what she knew as the common tongue—and focused on the people’s faces. They each looked very much like what she would expect of a human… save for their eyebrows.
Dotted across their brows were faintly glowing spots like those Fallor sported. Every individual seemed to have a slightly different color and pattern. Vi leaned back, running her fingers along her own brow in thought.
There was no way she could create anything convincingly similar without using some kind of Lightspinning. Which meant she’d need to hide rather than masquerade. Perhaps there were humans among them, and Vi’s worries were ill founded. But the Twilight Kingdom went to great lengths to protect itself from outsiders, and Vi had yet to see any non-morphi. She wasn’t about to take a chance.
It took three side alleyways before Vi found one that wasn’t swarming with people. Two men lingered at the opening by the road, their backs to her. Neither so much as looked over their shoulders as Vi slipped in, grabbing a dishcloth off a drying line and quickly tying it around her forehead.
She adjusted it several times, making sure it was secured tightly—tight enough to contribute to her already-throbbing headache. Vi ignored the pain, focusing on running her fingers over her brow and making sure everything from just above her eyes to halfway up her forehead was covered.
It likely looked ridiculous. But given the sorry state of the rest of her, a dishcloth bandanna was the least of her worries. Vi held her breath and kept her strides even as she approached the two men.
Calm—she had to be calm, even when it felt like everything pointed to her being immediately discovered as an interloper.
“Excuse me?” Vi asked. Both men turned, startled to see her. Vi folded her hands, keeping her eyes mostly down in an attempt to be demure and nonthreatening. Just because she was willing to fight tooth and nail for her and Taavin’s survival didn’t mean she wanted to. If it came down to that, her odds didn’t look good.
“Yes?”
“Do you know where I can find the nearest cleric? I don’t regularly come this way… and I’m a bit turned around.”
“Cleric?” The man repeated,
looking to his friend. The other shrugged.
“A healer, I mean?” Vi said tentatively, hoping her difference in word choice wouldn’t be what ultimately led to her discovery.
“Oh, why didn’t you say so?” The man shook his head, as though she was already burdensome, then looked to his friend. “Who’s closest to here?”
“Sarphos has a shop. But he’s rarely in it.”
“Yeah, he wouldn’t be.”
“I think after that it’s Rem?”
“Rem?”
“Five streets down and over, on seventeenth, the shop with the purple-colored awning.”
“Oh, her.”
“So…” Vi jumped into the conversation. “Purple colored awning on seventeenth,” she repeated. “But Sarphos is closer?”
“If you want to try him.” The man gave a shrug that showed how likely her success was. “He is in the opposite direction though… Only one street down.” He pointed to another intersection diagonally across from where Vi stood. “He’s in between here and fourteenth. But he’s rarely there.”
“Excellent, thank you.” Vi gave a small nod and started in the direction the man had pointed. The two men resumed their conversation as if nothing had happened. As if her heart wasn’t racing.
She adjusted her makeshift bandanna again and allowed her eyes to wander.
Men and women of all shapes and sizes, skin tones and hair colors walked around her, ignorant to the stranger in their midst. The only unifying factor among them was the glowing markings dotted above their eyes in place of eyebrows. But that wasn’t the most fantastical element of the kingdom.
There was a menagerie surrounding her. Jaguars lounged on balconies, wolves trotted down alleyways, birds of all manner of plumage soared overhead, and towering beasts of scales and feathers that Vi had no name for raced each other down the main streets. Magic pulsed around her, strange and foreign. In a flash those same animals would be replaced by human-looking folk, quickly conducting their business before another pulse of magic brought them back into their animal forms.