Chapter 38

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

MAEVYTH

I stared down at the shadowy mirror, the reflection of myself a haunting, ghostly appearance, in spite of the firelamp that illuminated Dolion’s cell. Allura, Dolion, and I sat around a small wooden table in the center of the cramped space, as Dolion burned a savory smelling herb in a black crucible, its white smoke drifting over the top as he wafted it over the mirror.

“ Vetusza deosium invocasteus visionestaz .” He repeated the phrase a half-dozen times, only pausing to blow the white smoke over the top of the scrying mirror.

A strange, anxious sensation curled in my stomach, and my pulse hastened, as if I were nervous. Or antsy. It made sense, I supposed. He was calling on a vision of my sister, and the possibility of seeing her dead sat heavy in my heart.

Breathing through my nose, I pushed the sensation away, but it lingered, scratching at my chest like something inside of me trying to get out.

“ Vetusza deosium invocasteus visionestaz e sapientaz. ”

Ancient gods, we call upon your vision and wisdom , a feminine voice whispered in my head.

I frowned, my heart pounding in my chest, and I looked around, searching for who’d said it. Allura sat beside me, her eyes closed, as she rolled her head on her shoulders. As if drawn by my staring, she opened her eyes, flashing me a quick smile.

“Did you say something to me?” I whispered in a volume faint enough to keep from disturbing Dolion.

A look of confusion crossed her face, and she shook her head.

What was it, then? I surely wouldn’t have understood those words, spoken in a language I’d never heard.

As Dolion kept on with the smoke and the chanting, I caught the trembling of my hands against the table.

“Vetusza deosium invocasteus visionestaz e sapientaz.” His voice morphed into a deep, terrifying tone, as if he spoke from inside the chasm of a monster’s belly. “Vetusza deosium invocasteus visionestaz e sapientaz.”

Panic gripped my lungs, my breaths shaky and uneven. My head commanded me to say something, to make him stop, but my lips refused to obey.

My muscles jolted, locked up into a tight knot, and I kicked my head back. The ceiling faded beneath a bright flash of light. Through it, I could see Aleysia, her closely-shorn hair, the cuts and nicks above her ear. Bruised, pale skin. A fire burning in a hearth behind her. Whether she was alive, or dead, I couldn’t tell, until she shifted beneath the blanket that covered her body.

The vision snapped to blackness, and my body jostled with a rough shake of my arm.

“Maevyth!”

I snapped my eyes open to two figures standing over me, a blur at first, but they sharpened into the concerned expressions of Dolion and Allura.

My mind scrambled to make sense of the view, my thoughts spinning, winding, tumbling out of control. Behind them were the table and chairs where I’d sat moments before. A sharp pain hammered at my skull, and had me wincing and rubbing the most painful side of my head. “What happened?”

Dolion hooked his arm in mine, lifting me up from where I’d apparently crashed to the floor. “I was summoning the aid of the gods, and all of a sudden, your eyes rolled back into your head and you fell from the chair.”

Once upright, I climbed back into my seat and noticed the glass on the mirror had cracked. “Did you see anything about my sister?”

“Unfortunately, no. The summoning stopped before it even began.”

“You asked for the vision and wisdom of the ancient gods. I understood the words.” I rubbed my brow and shook my head, forcing myself to remember the details of what felt like a dream.

Dolion’s brows winged up. “You must have an impressive education system in Mortasia to know Primyria.”

“I never learned it. Where is it from?”

“It’s believed to have been spoken by the gods, thousands of years ago.”

An ache throbbed at my temples, and I pressed my fingers there. “How would I know that? In fact, how would I know Nyxterosi, which I swear is Vonkovyan, a language I’ve spoken my entire life!”

“It is quite a mystery, I’ll admit. Primyria is said to be one of the most difficult to learn.”

Allura added, “I’ve studied Vonkovyan, and you are definitely not speaking the dead language now.”

I let out a strained chuckle. “I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve lost my mind. Or maybe … maybe I’ve hit my head so incredibly hard back in those woods that I don’t remember and I’m lying unconscious. And this? This is just my head trying to reconcile the pain.”

“You certainly have a vivid imagination, if that’s the case, because I feel quite alive.” Dolion sighed. “And quite old.”

Palms pressed to my face, I took three deep breaths. “I saw my sister.”

“Just now?”

“When I apparently lost my senses and fell from the chair. I saw her lying beneath a pile of blankets. There was a fire burning.”

“Did she look to be in pain?” Dolion asked.

“Not at all.” Staring off brought the image to mind again. “She looked to be at peace.”

“Then, the gods shared their vision, after all.”

Snapping out of my trance, I shook my head and frowned. “How can I trust that? You said the image would be in the mirror, not in my head.”

“The gods do not abide by the rules of what should be, Maevyth.”

“Is it possible, then? Is it possible that she’s alive?” I wanted to believe with every fiber of my being that Aleysia had found safety somehow.

“If her spirit is as stubborn as yours? I would say so.”

Eyes screwed shut, I willed my head to accept the vision, to convince my mind that what I’d seen just now wasn’t made up. “I saw her, though. Moros, he …. He dragged her away.”

“Perhaps she escaped.” Dolion offered, but he hadn’t seen the way that creature had hunted both Moros and Uncle Riftyn. He hadn’t watched how easily it had torn the flesh from Uncle Riftyn’s body. Even then, I had to shake my head of the horror, the efficiency in which it had killed. What reason would it have had to spare her?

“I can’t begin to express how badly I want to believe that.”

A hand gripped my shoulder, and when I looked up, it was Allura staring down at me. “Then, believe it.”

A llura sat beside me, as I opened the puzzle book to the first page I’d unveiled. Across from us, Dolion sat scribbling in a leather-bound journal, the bones that Allura had analyzed earlier strewn about the table. She’d determined that each had belonged to a different person at some point. Which meant the bones of at least a dozen deceased individuals had shot from my hand, and I still struggled to wrap my head around that.

He lifted one of the specimens, studying it before placing it back down and scribbling again.

“It appears to be the story of Deimos and Morsana,” Allura said, yanking my attention back to the book.

I ran my fingers over the figures, spurring them into motion again, just as before. “Who are they?”

“Morsana was a death goddess. It was said that her eyes were so strikingly silver, no mortal creature dared to look at her. Except for Deimos.” Her amethyst eyes dulled with concentration as she stared down at the page. “He was a feared warrior for an ancient tribe who conquered lands and killed without remorse. Some believed the God of Chaos inhabited him, and Morsana was said to have sought him so relentlessly, she followed him into every battle, disguised as a flock of ravens. With every victory, her endeavors to claim his soul withered. And soon, she fell in love with the brave mortal who did not so much as flinch in her presence.” She peered down at the painting, her hand hovering over the shadowy figure trapped in flames. For her, the images didn’t move, but remained static. “He offered his kills as a gift to her, and his people worshipped the once-feared goddess. But Magekae, the God of Dark Alchemy, was obsessed with her. Had been since the dawn of time. And he was furious over her love for a mortal. So, he took matters into his own hands. He armed the enemies of Deimos with a powerful magic that turned them immortal. Strengthened them by daylight, which made them undefeatable for the mortals. And so, the Solassions came to be. And they conquered the lands that Deimos had claimed for his people.”

She shifted her focus to the woman bathed in a silver glowing light. “Unfortunately, Magekae and his immortals prevailed. They casted Deimos into sablefyre, to burn for eternity, and slaughtered his people. Magekae imprisoned Morsana for many years. Determined never to marry the corrupt god, Morsana took the form of a raven and escaped. That is why it is believed the raven carries the souls of the dead to Nethyria.”

Still staring down at the page, she placed her palm over the bones on the spine of the book. “We were never taught about the Corvikae people. All of these stories were nothing but fables of gods and mortals.” Shifting her attention to me, she smiled. “But they’re not, are they? If you exist, they must be real.”

“They are very real.” Dolion looked up from his studies. “We have so much to learn from you, Maevyth.”

I sank back into my chair, trying to absorb everything. “I feel as if I’ve so much to learn of myself.”

“And you will.” Allura gave a reassuring smile.

“Yes, but perhaps in the morning.” Dolion yawned and stretched his arms. “I’m growing quite weary of studying bones.”

“It has been a long day of travel.” Allura sighed.

At a knock that echoed through the dungeon, the three of us looked up to find Rykaia standing outside of Dolion’s cell with her arms crossed. “So … I’m supposed to show our new guest to her room.” Her eyes fell on Allura in a way that seemed appraising. “That must be you.”

“I’m happy to sleep down here, if–”

“Sorry. There are only two cells with beds. If you took one of the others, you’d be sleeping on a concrete floor.” Gone was the warmth that Rykaia had shown me when I’d first arrived, and I frowned, wondering what it was about the woman she seemed to not like very much.

“Very well. I will bid the two of you goodnight.” Allura gave a nod and pushed up from the table, gracefully making her way toward Rykaia, who glared at the woman as if she’d done something to offend her.

Rykaia looked back to me. “And you. I suspect you’ll want another bath and a change of clothes.”

“A basin and a sponge is fine. Maybe a change of clothes. I’m guessing Zevander will want his tunic returned.”

Her lips pulled to a smirk. “He hasn’t requested that I retrieve it from you.”

“In that case, just a sponge and basin.”

“Very well.” With that, the two of them set off down the corridor.