by Paris Hansch
“For injuries on the battlefield.”
“Ah.” He had little interest in medicine himself, but Cynric’s dedication was admirable. Perhaps he was writing it for the war, as there would be a good chance that Calvera would ride into battle alongside Lanadrin. Then, a thought occurred to him.
“Are… are you going to be all right? If you’re joining the war, I mean.”
“I’m not on the frontlines.”
“But your people…”
Cynric placed his quill down, turning his whole body to face Anton. “I cut ties with them long ago.”
Anton didn’t know how to respond. He’d never left Anadrieth himself, so he couldn’t possibly know what it was like to leave home. Something must have happened—people rarely left their home region for no reason—but he didn’t want to pry. Perhaps he was an outcast, after all.
“What book were you looking for?” asked Cynric.
Anton rubbed his arm, glancing around. “It doesn’t really matter. I wanted to know more about this whole spirit sight thing. It only works when I don’t want it to, it seems.”
Cynric’s lips curved downward slightly. “Ask the girls.” He pointed farther back into the library. “I can help later, but if you’ll excuse me for now.” He turned back to his work.
Anton opened his mouth, but the man had already started writing again. His work was probably important, and he didn’t want to disturb him any more than he already had. Anton headed in the direction he’d been pointed, and two voices came into earshot. He peered through one of the bookshelves to find his sister… and that damn priestess girl, Hanabi. Anton gripped the shelf, staying out of sight. If that girl tried anything with his sister, she would answer to his sword.
Adelia was staring down at something in her palm. It looked like the lyrecrane pendant she never took off. Of all the gold and jewels she owned, that little thing made of cheap moonstone, worth a meager silver coin, was her favorite. The craftsmanship was decent but far from that of Anadrieth’s finest jeweler. It wasn’t unique or ornate in any way. Just a trinket from the marketplace. However, it had been a gift from the princess, and that made it priceless in his sister’s eyes.
“Have you thought of something yet?” asked Hanabi.
Adelia showed her the necklace. “This has to be it.”
“That? If it breaks, you’ll die. You could lose it, or someone could steal it. Your syra must be something you can protect, and you can’t change your mind.”
“You said the more important it was, the better. Plus, I heard Ryuko took your spirit tome.”
“He was just… holding onto it for me. Fine, if you insist, we’ll use that.” Hanabi sighed. “Now, what we’re going to do can be extremely dangerous, but without your syra, you can’t use your spirit arts. Unlike the dragon gods, our human spirits simply aren’t powerful enough on their own.” She pulled out her tome, setting it on her lap.
“But as priestesses,” she continued, “we can take a piece of our own spirits and imbue it within an object, then use it to channel our power. However, this comes at a cost. With even a fraction of a piece missing, our physical bodies become weak. There will be days when you won’t even be able to get out of bed, and that’s why we toe the line of death.” Hanabi didn’t break eye contact. “This process is dangerous. There’s a possibility of you splitting too much of your spirit apart, and if your spirit leaves your body entirely, you’ll die. Do you understand?”
Adelia nodded, but Anton was shaking his head. There was no way she would do something so risky. The books he was leaning against tumbled to the floor. The girls glanced in his direction as he hurriedly put them back. He hardly cared that he was caught eavesdropping, and his anger bubbled up.
“Adelia,” he said, “this is madness. That girl isn’t safe.”
“Anton—”
“Don’t eavesdrop,” said Hanabi.
Anton felt the tips of his ears going red as he stalked toward them. “Don’t kill my sister.”
Hanabi gripped her hand on her tome, and intricate symbols appeared on the cover with a blinding light.
Anton stumbled, falling onto the ground. He couldn’t do anything—couldn’t move or speak, as if his will had completely evaporated. He could sense the priestess taking over, invading his senses, and he couldn’t do anything about it.
The barrier he’d wrapped around himself came crashing down, and a great sense of calm enveloped him. He saw his little sister’s smile as they ran through the forest, his father’s hand on his shoulder, a woman gently stroking his head. Warmth flooded his chest, pushing back the cobwebs of his heart. Then, the moment passed, and he was pulled back to reality, his fingers digging into the stone floor.
Anton clutched at his chest, his breathing ragged. He stood, his knees shaking a little, and he kept his distance. Hanabi’s presence and the light were gone, but something inside of him felt raw and painful. As he checked himself over, he realized that he wasn’t hurt, but he felt something that he hadn’t experienced in a long time—vulnerability. He was unsteady on his feet, still not feeling quite himself.
Adelia stood over Hanabi. “I told you not to do that again.”
Hanabi glanced at her. “This time, I was doing my job and calming him down, amongst other things. It was more invasive than usual, but he’ll thank me later.” She gestured to him. “Now that you’re here, we could use your help for a few minutes. Adelia will be safer if someone else is here.”
Anton’s senses were coming back to him, but he felt strange. It was like the wall he’d built around and within himself had crumbled to dust. More than anything, he was dazed.
“Anton, I know this is a big ask,” said Adelia, not taking her eyes away from Hanabi. “But she’s the only one who can teach me these things. I have to do this. No matter the cost.”
Anton stared at her for a moment. When she had that look on her face, there was no changing her mind. And if Hanabi was telling the truth, she would be safer if he stayed.
“Fine.”
“Good,” said Hanabi. “Stand here and place your hand on her shoulder. You and I will be the anchiores, or anchors, that will keep Adelia from losing herself in the spirit realm while she makes her syra. All you need to do is tune into your spirit sight and keep in contact with her at all times.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’ll admit I… actually haven’t done this before. But not to worry. As long as you concentrate, I’ll take care of the rest.”
Anton frowned. “That’s not comforting. Besides, I can’t tune into my spirit sight yet.”
Hanabi sighed. “The contact itself will help, but still try. Are you ready?”
Adelia nodded, and Anton let out a breath through his teeth, placing a stiff hand on his sister’s shoulder. His heart was still racing, and he could barely concentrate, but he had to try.
“Just breathe,” said Hanabi.
Cynric stood by a bookshelf, holding his glasses in one hand. He gave Anton a nod, and the boy quickly glanced at the floor. Eyes like water, beautiful, calm and still. A deep voice, quiet and strong. A man of few words. He remembered his large, warm hand enveloping his, plunging it into the freezing water. Anton caught himself. That was simply a bizarre incident that had no meaning at all, and he shouldn’t be thinking about it, especially not now.
But Cynric had a calming presence, all the same.
When Anton opened his eyes, he could see. Tiny colored lights—no, spirits—floated all around him. They seemed playful and alive, though not in the same way that he was alive. Everything was slightly duller, almost hazy, yet he’d never seen the world as bright as it was at that moment.
Anton relaxed the tension in his arms as a silvery air spirit flitted by his hand. Then, violet auras appeared around him, far more defined than the air spirit and most certainly human-shaped. Each of their auras were distinct, undeniably an imprint of their individual spirits, but they were all beautiful in a way. He could even see his own, but unlike the previous times he’d se
en it, he knew what was going on.
Hanabi gripped her tome, which held the same aura as her, yet duller, and he could see her spirit nestled inside the tome, just as he had seen the princess’ incredibly bright spirit within her swords. Her spirit took his sister’s hand, guiding it outward. As soon as Adelia’s spirit began to leave her body, he felt an enormous energy fill the air, and the pull to the pendant was incredibly strong. It was pulling him in, and Anton gasped. He let go.
And everything disappeared.
An absolute emptiness filled him to the brim, and the others were no longer in sight. He vaguely felt himself collapse to his knees, sweat dripping down his temple, his heart about to beat out of his chest. He was still in the library, but at the same time, he wasn’t. He was entirely alone. It was the same as it was in the arena—a lonely, melancholy world where no one existed.
Anton’s cheek stung, and he hit the floor, the impact making his ears ring. When his eyes finally focused, everything around him was normal once again, like he had never left.
Hanabi stared at him, the obvious panic streaking across her face. Adelia lay still on the floor, and Cynric hovered over her, checking her pulse.
Anton scrambled over, his knees dragging on the stone floor. “What happened?”
Hanabi was in a daze, and her eyes refused to leave him. “You… you crossed over. To the spirit realm. You completely disappeared.”
Anton blinked, ignoring her. His little sister was as pale as snow, her limbs still and lifeless. He searched her up and down for signs of life, his chest tightening. He remembered her lying in the ravine, the branch jutting through her leg, her pretty dress stained with the blood of his mistake. It was all his fault.
“She’s alive.” Cynric’s tone was calm and even, silencing the vivid memory. He scooped her into his arms with ease, her limp frame appearing even smaller against his body. “Come,” he said. In several large strides, he was out of sight.
Anton’s legs were trembling, and he couldn’t stand. The ground was blurry, and tiny black spots dotted his vision. He clutched his head, doubling over until his forehead touched the floor. It was all his fault. His breaths came in gasps, getting shorter by the second.
It’s all my fault.
A hand tentatively rested on his back, and he flinched, but he didn’t have the energy to brush it away. Anton turned slightly.
Hanabi’s tear-stained face was close to his shoulder, her eyes raw, her expression unsettling. Why was she so upset?
This is her fault, too.
The woman’s voice returned, her shadow by his side. But he didn’t need her encouragement. Anton tackled Hanabi to the floor, his hands gripping her shoulders, his eyes boring into hers.
“If my sister dies… I will kill you.”
Anton let go and followed after Cynric. His mind was nothing more than a rumbling storm, his thoughts a dark blur. He barely registered the people staring at him as he swept through the halls, his body moving automatically. He could hear Hanabi running after him, but he paid her no mind. When he arrived at the infirmary, Elaine was already checking Adelia over.
“She’s as white as death, she is. What happened?” She looked as calm as Cynric, but he could hear the quiver in her words.
“We… had an accident,” said Hanabi, hanging by the door.
Elaine glared at her. “I’m gonna need more than that, missy.”
Hanabi crept over, wringing her hands. “There’s nothing any of you can do. If her spirit is strong enough to pull her through, she will.”
Anton stood by his sister. He could see her aura, a muted, dull violet emanating from her body; her light was almost out. But against her chest, shining brighter than ever, was her lyrecrane pendant. He snapped out of it and turned to Hanabi, speaking in a low voice.
“What happened exactly?”
She gripped the edge of the bed. “I tried to… I couldn’t stop her. You crossed over.”
“Be. More. Specific.”
“If I hadn’t pulled you back, you would have been lost in the spirit realm, forever.” Hanabi took a shuddering breath. “By then, it was too late. But I had to make a choice.”
“Her spirit is almost gone,” Anton said. He straightened, clenching his fists. “You chose wrong.”
“You… you can see that?” asked Hanabi. “How?”
He pushed past her. She disgusted him, and he refused to continue the conversation.
“Wait—”
Anton ignored her, storming out of the infirmary. He had to get out of there. He sprinted through the castle, not caring who saw him. Picking up the first sword he saw as he passed through the armory, he threw the sheath to the ground and swung at the nearest wooden practice figure. First, Hanabi had practically attacked him; then, she nearly got his sister killed in some ridiculous ritual.
Damn her.
He made a deep cut in the figure’s neck, his arms shaking from the strike. He didn’t know how long he’d been there, but the head of the figure was nearly completely off. As he yanked the sword back to swing again, another sword blocked it.
21
Chapter Twenty-One
Alexander
Alexander saw his brother sprinting straight past him. He called out, but Anton didn’t seem to hear. Why did his siblings always seem to be running out on him? He’d been able to slip away from his councilors for a bit, hoping for some much-needed peace and quiet, but clearly, Anton needed someone now. He ran after him.
Alexander found him hacking away at a training dummy, with spectators slowly backing away. This was the most out of control he had ever seen his brother, and he couldn’t just let him continue to embarrass himself. He drew his Golden Dawn, intercepting Anton’s next strike.
“If you wanted someone to spar with, you need only have asked.”
Anton didn’t reply, only aimed his next blow at him—and the next, and the one after that. They landed haphazardly, and Alexander remained on the defensive, only moving enough to parry his attacks. He knew what his brother was feeling all too well, as he had often taken out his frustrations with a sword. But for Anton, this was far from normal. He didn’t seem to be having an episode, but Alexander wasn’t sure what else could have provoked such a reaction. Finally, he expertly disarmed the young lord, flinging his sword away.
Anton leaned against his knees, panting.
“Brother, I know you can do better than that,” said Alexander. “Tell me what’s wrong. I’ve been trying to find you all day.”
Anton shook his head. “I… made a mistake,” he whispered.
Alexander nodded. “I understand. We all make mistakes—”
“No!” Anton stepped within an inch of him, raising his chin. “Shut up. You wouldn’t understand, not one bit. You’ve always been perfect Lord Alexander, the fearless leader everyone looks up to, while I’ve nearly killed my sister—twice, now. Don’t you dare say you understand what it’s like to be me, the spare, the second born that’s only needed if his perfect older brother dies in heroic combat.” Anton’s cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were bloodshot. “You don’t make mistakes. That’s something reserved only for me, the disgrace of the family.”
Alexander stared at him for a moment, taken aback. His little brother never raised his voice like that, and he had no idea where this was coming from all of a sudden. He’d done nothing to warrant this barrage, especially not in front of other people. But Anton’s anger was infectious, and he wasn’t going to let such disrespect slide.
“And I suppose you’d know all about running a nation on the brink of war?” Alexander’s voice was lower than it ever had been, his tone edged in frost. “I don’t make mistakes because I can’t make mistakes. Every eye in Anadrieth looks to me to be their unwavering leader. I don’t have the freedom to make a mistake. If I did, the consequences would affect everyone. So, stop trying to be me. The only one forcing you to stay in my shadow is yourself.” Alexander took a deep breath, unclenching his fists.
“
You know what, Anton?” he continued, unable to keep the anger at bay. “I have made mistakes, especially with you. You don’t understand how much I wanted to be in that room, taking your place instead of waiting helplessly outside. It was my fault that I didn’t see it coming. I could have spared you from that. And maybe if I had, you wouldn’t have turned out like this.” He gestured up and down at his brother, and his tone thawed. “Instead, I gave you the freedom I could never have had, to do whatever you wanted without the weight of Anadrieth bearing down on your every move. But you’ve convinced yourself you can’t do any better than people’s expectations, so you never will. And that’s not my fault.”
“I didn’t ask for your freedom. And neither did Adelia.” Anton’s fists were trembling. “Your freedom caged us.”
Alexander shook his head in disbelief. “And you want to be caught up in the bloodshed, the manipulation, the suffocating pressure? I did this because I care about you both.”
“You care? That’s news to me,” scoffed Anton, looking away from Alexander. “It didn’t matter what kind of life it was. We were meant to do this together, like you promised.”
Alexander almost lost it, and his heart pounded in his ears. “Like I promised?” he hissed. “No. You’re the one who shut us out, Anton. You’re the one who broke us apart. We gave you as much time as you needed, but you still left us.” He enunciated each word with venom. His brother was being nothing but selfish, and he wasn’t having any of it. Alexander turned on his heel and stalked off.
“And you’re still standing outside the door,” said Anton.
Alexander pursed his lips, looking back over his shoulder. “What?”
Anton gave him a look that he’d never seen before—a dark sorrow, caged by a raging wildfire.
“You weren’t there for her. Again.”