Chapter 53

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

MAEVYTH

R ykaia pulled me along, as I watched Zevander disappear into the melee. A voice inside my head told me to stay with him. That I was safest with him. Instead, I scurried after Rykaia and Torryn as they searched for a quiet place to cleave, away from anyone who might try to follow after us.

Rykaia darted toward a shadowy corner, and the moment she put her finger to the stone, the sound of approaching footsteps alerted us that someone was coming from the other direction. Four figures in gold armor stalked toward us–Solassion guards.

“Go,” Torryn said, stepping around her in the direction of the footsteps. “I’ll deal with them.” Striding toward them, he removed his gloves, tossed them aside, and yanked away his cloak for a short, but vicious looking, cutlass strapped to his back. It’d managed to stay concealed beneath his cloak, somehow, and it was as he reached for the hilt that it lengthened to its full size toward his hand.

Hand trembling, Rykaia drew a shimmering line down the wall and stepped through.

As I lifted my leg to follow after her, something gripped my arm. Before I had the chance to identify what had clutched me, a hand banded across my mouth and yanked me backward, away from it. I sank my teeth into my captor’s flesh, and they growled, releasing me. Once free, I jolted for that glowing seam with a single-minded determination to get back to Eidolon.

A weakness claimed my legs, like running through thick muck, and I fell to my knees just short of the cleave, watching the glow fade. My pulse raced as the terrifying sensation climbed up my thighs to my stomach. Reaching out for the slowly sealing exit, I opened my mouth for a scream that died to a choke.

The distant sound of Rykaia calling out to me faded beneath a piercing static in my ears. My hands fell at my side, my body shutting down on me without will.

The stone floor crashed into my cheekbone, and a shock of pain exploded across my jaw. I let out a grunt as I watched a black boot step into my view, the purple hem of a robe hovering just above it. The figure reached down and took hold of the whistle at my neck. In one rough yank, he tore it away.

Blackness swallowed my vision.

T he scent of burning herbs invaded my nose and I opened my eyes to the lambent glow of candles. Hundreds of candles that illuminated a domed, white ceiling above me. The hum of quiet chanting dragged my attention to the right, where robed figures, in black and gold masks, stood in rows. At pressure across my wrists, I looked down to see my arms shackled in copper, the chain attached to a cement slab beneath me. I tugged at it in a frenzy of confusion, and when I kicked my feet, they too failed to move freely.

A cold, branching panic crawled over my chest, squeezing my lungs, allowing only a whimper to escape me.

I rolled my head to the left and found a gold brazier, from where a rich, black flame writhed and quivered in a hypnotic dance. Starved and restless for kindling, it seemed to reach out for anything to consume.

Beside the brazier stood another figure, wearing the telling purple and black robes of a mage, his face concealed by a black mask.

He held out his hands to either side of him. “Behold the last daughter of the Corvikae! A contradiction to all we represent.” He held up one palm. “The father of alchemy. Of life, magic and creation.” He raised his other hand. “And the daughter of death and decay. Her blood, when turned to stone, will bring forth the truest alchemical transformation. Through her death, we shall live. By her essence, we shall fortify the Umbravale to protect against our enemies. To drive out disease and famine, as is prophesied by the divine Goddess of Foresight. Together, with the six stones we’ve yet to reclaim, we will not fall prey to the Black Pestilence.”

“Let me go! Please! I’m not what you think I am!” I wriggled and squirmed in the cuffs. “Please! I’m begging you! Don’t do this!”

He lifted the thurible from his side, wafting the scent of dried herbs I’d smelled earlier, and dangled it over me in circles to form puffs of white smoke. “Magekae, lord of alchemy and knowledge, we call upon your wisdom and skill to tame the sablefyre, the force you created, so that we might carry forth your incorporeal spirit.” Lowering the thurible, he tilted his head back. “ Egrezeder deosz! Da’haj’mihirit teviras! ”

A feminine voice that wasn’t my own spoke inside my head. Come forth, God of Alchemy! Give me your strength!

Eyes on the black flame, I tugged at my binds, desperate to get loose, and glanced around for any familiar faces. Only a sea of emotionless masks stared back at me. A number of them wore purple cloaks like that of the mage standing over me.

From the brazier, the mage lit a small bundle of kindling, which he placed in a porcelain crucible. As he held it over my body, I stared up at the black onyx ring on his finger. The Magelord I’d met earlier. “She will burn in sablefyre. And her blood shall turn to stone. And the stone shall grant us immunity from the blight!”

“ Covis honet et obedisz, petimirsj ze noz eripeh, ” the crowd chanted, their voices harsh and staccato, terrifying.

With honor and obedience, we ask that you deliver us , the voice in my mind translated.

“No, please! Don’t do this!” My muscles shook with the futile effort of trying to free myself from the chains.

Wordlessly, he passed his hand through the flame, wincing as he scooped the fire into his palm. Without warning, he slapped his hand over my mouth, forcing the fire down my throat.

I kicked and struggled, the air in my lungs crackling with each gasp through my nose. A silvery glow in my periphery cast a haze over my eyes, the room closing in on the fringes.

“Stop!” My head screamed in agony, the words trapped behind fire. “Please stop!” Shackles bit into my wrists as I shook and wriggled for freedom.

A searing burn marked the flame’s path, as it crawled down my throat into my chest, and I arched my back, a scream tearing out of me while the fire scorched my insides. Tremors shook my muscles, the darkness on the edge of my vision pulling me deeper.

It’s all right, Maevyth. Come to me. Do not let them see your fear, the comforting voice said.

The room shrank smaller. Smaller, still. Until I stood in complete blackness.

A radiant light shone from behind, and I turned to face it. Squinting against the painful luminosity, I found the willowy figure I’d seen before. Morsana.

“He searches for me.” She lifted her gaze, as if something hovered above us, but when I looked, there was only the fading rays of light and blackness beyond them. “He wants to destroy you.”

“What do I do?”

“You command the flame. Remember that.”

A searing heat danced over my skin, but when I looked down at myself, I saw nothing. No evidence of pain, or flame.

“Let the flame do your bidding. Now, go. Go before it’s too late.”

The darkness faded, fizzling away to that silvery glow from before, and I stared up at the mage who’d removed his mask, his face twisted in fear and confusion.

“Who are you?” he asked on the cusp of a whimper.

Something dark and scaly moved through me, stirring inside my chest. A white haze slipped across my eyes, as a cold and numb sensation burrowed into my skin and bones. I pursed my lips and blew a torrent of black flame at the Magelord’s face.

The mages at my back let out a collective scream that reverberated through the room. As the Magelord raised his hands to shield himself, another searing flame burst from my lips, and the scent of cooked meat wafted through the air.

He stumbled backward. The skin on the back of his hands slid away to leave only raw glistening flesh, and when he lowered them from his face, I watched as two milky white masses slid from his eye sockets, plopping onto the floor with a splat. The mage dropped to his knees, then fell backward, convulsing.

Screams heightened to a pitch of terror from the crowd, and when I turned toward them, one of the masked figures raised his palm, his glyph glowing bright. Shocks of blinding pain curled through me, and I cried out, my body arched against the slab. Another mage raised his hand, and an invisible force garroted my throat, the pressure springing tears to my eyes. I shook against my binds, desperate to make it stop. The light waned, the view darkening, shrinking smaller and smaller.

Let the flame do your bidding , the voice chimed inside my head.

Overhead, I watched the black move across the ceiling, like shadows swallowing me. Tears streaked down my temples. The pain in my body tore at my muscles with hooked claws, while the pressure at my throat siphoned the air from my lungs.

Everything turned to darkness.

In the quiet of my mind, I saw a vision of myself dancing in a meadow of white mist and asphodels, my long, dark locks bouncing around my shoulders. How peculiar and unsettling to see myself, as if I were looking through the eyes of someone else. The distant echo of my twin’s laughter brought a smile to my face. She twirled amongst the tall, white flowers, before she paused to look back at me, the mirth on her face sobering to fear. “ What did you do? ” The horror in her expression darkened, and a cold, branching dread crawled over my spine. “ What did you do! ”

I snapped my eyes open to screams. Loud, throaty screams of intense fear. Turning my head to the side, I watched bodies running into one another, a commotion of alarm. The mages gathered near the exit, but something kept them from leaving. A wall of black flame. I clocked the way it entirely circled the room, as if it’d caught on a path of kindling and formed a barricade around us, corralling us.

I stared down at myself to the metallic cuffs that’d melted away from my wrists and ankles, setting me free. As I lifted my hands, I examined the red bands across my skin, burn marks left there. The mages huddled into a tight group, their eyes brimming with horror as they stared my way. Afraid of me?

On the stone floor lay two piles of ash, where the two mages had stood before, the ones who’d inflicted pain. Confused, I raised my hand to my throat, the phantom sensation of pressure still lingering. What had happened?

Behind me and across the room stood multiple stone arches, and beyond them, dark corridors blocked by the black flame. No way out.

A bleak panic settled over me.

What did you do?

The black flame refused to die, as it burned with fervor in a circle around us, trapping us in the room. Shallow breaths sawed in and out of me, and I slid off the altar and looked around for a means of escape.

There was nothing. The relentless fire blocked every possible passage out of the room and the unbearable heat had me feeling dizzy, in spite of the hollow cold in my chest.

One of the mages darted for the flame, the gasps and screams from the other mages failing to mask the revolting sound of sizzling meat, the moment he made contact with the fire. Something thudded against the floor and rolled toward me, coming to a stop at my feet. A crimson-colored stone. Bloodstone.

Muscles trembling, I backed myself away from it, around the altar, and my heel caught on something behind me. I fell backward, the floor crashing into my flailing hands as I tumbled onto my backside over a mass beneath me. A body, lying on the floor, the sight of his empty eye sockets twisting my stomach. A tearless sob shook out of me, and I kicked myself away from him, curling my knees into my chest.

Oh, god, what have I done? What have I done!

A silvery, blue light glimmered over top of the altar, where I’d lay moments before, and I whimpered in horror when a hand shot upward from the center of it. Another hand followed.

I moved farther away, my pulse hammering as I watched a figure crawl out of the altar.

A head popped through, and at the sight of Rykaia’s face, I wheezed a tearful laugh, the relief sagging my muscles as I tried to push to my feet.

She slid over the side of the altar, and another dark-skinned hand pushed through after her.

“Maevyth!” Rykaia rushed toward me, enveloping me in a hug that I so desperately needed right then. “I thought …. Oh, gods, I thought …”

“I’m okay,” I said in a shaky voice.

Behind her, Dolion tumbled onto the floor and clambered to his feet, straightening his robes. He raised the hood of his cloak to cover his head. Frowning, he glanced around the room. “What in the gods …”

“We have to get back to Eidolon. There’s no way out.” As I broke from Rykaia’s embrace and lurched for the seam, she gripped my arm.

“No. You never cleave down.” Her voice held a grim warning.

“What?” Tone muddled in distress, I searched her face for any sign that she might’ve been joking.

“You can cleave up and through walls, but never down. It’s the gateway to Nethyria. The underworld.”

“Then, there’s no escape. The flame is blocking every wall and passage out of this room.”

Dolion stepped toward me, eyes earnest as he took hold of my arm. “You control the flame, Maevyth. It follows your command.”

I shook my head, distinctly recalling the invisible force that had commandeered my body when I’d blown the flames in the Magelord’s face. The blackness that’d consumed me afterward, when I’d somehow gotten myself free. All of it out of my control. “It’s not me that controls it.”

“It is you. You possess the ability to control sablefyre.” With a gentle nudge, he urged me toward the fire behind us, but I resisted him, refusing so much as a step closer.

“I just watched someone turn to ash trying to touch that flame. I want nothing to do with it!”

His grip tightened. “They did not have the power that you possess, Maevyth. Now, raise your hand and command the flame to allow you passage.”

“How?”

“Raise your hand.”

I lifted my hand, as directed, my palm held out to the flame.

“Close your eyes and imagine the flame parting way for you.”

Breath trembling, I shuttered my eyes and brought to mind a visual of the black flame parting like a curtain. Heat blazed across my palm, and I jerked my hand back, opening my eyes to a gap in the flame and the dark corridor beyond it.

Elation bloomed inside me, and I let out a chuckle, only for it to be quickly smothered, when Solassion guards appeared from the dark depths of the passage—a half-dozen, or more, storming toward us. Dolion and I backed away, toward the altar, as they stepped through the gap in the flames.

Before they could reach us, Dolion thrusted his hand forth, and a shimmering wall materialized, like puzzle pieces clicking into place, climbing toward the ceiling and separating us from the soldiers, who pounded their fists against it. “Let’s go! Quickly!”

I twisted around and knelt beside the Magelord, rifling through his pockets while desperate not to look at him.

“What are you doing, Maevyth! We have to go! Now!” Rykaia’s voice brimmed with panic.

“I need my whistle!” I frantically searched his robe for it, shoving my trembling hand into whatever pockets I could find.

“There’s no time!” Dolion took hold of my arm, and with reluctance, I let him pull me to my feet, and the three of us darted toward another arched pillar at the opposite side of the room.

I closed my eyes and held out my hand like before, except that time, I imagined a much wider curtain across the room, opening the exit further, allowing the other mages to escape through. Instead of following them, the three of us jogged through one of the arched pillars to a corridor within.

“The further I distance myself from that ward, the faster it will fall. We have to cleave back to Eidolon immediately.” Dolion ground to a halt and pressed his fingertip to the adjacent stone wall. Before he could draw a line, his chin tipped up, and he stumbled backward.

A woman stood on the other side of him, garbed in the telling black and purple mage robe of the Magestroli, holding a blade at his throat.

“Hello, Dolion Gevarys. So nice to finally make your acquaintance,” she said, her voice laced with amusement.

“And you must be Melantha.”

“I’m flattered you know my name.”

“You.” The confusion in Rykaia’s voice had me turning to see a troubled expression slinking across her face. “I remember you.” Rykaia’s brows lowered to a frown. “I remember everything.”

“Yes, well, this isn’t the time for that.” Melantha raised her hand, but not before I lifted mine and closed my eyes to the image of Aeryz. When I pushed it toward her, she flew backward just far enough that the three of us could run in the opposite direction. Halfway down the corridor, we froze in place, our bodies lifted off the ground with ease, to a height that I could kick my feet.

Somehow, Rykaia managed to get loose and dropped to the floor, but before she could scramble away, she collapsed to the side.

“Rykaia!” I screamed. “Rykaia!”

“She’s all right. It’s just a sleeping spell.” Melantha padded toward her, wearing a smile of satisfaction.

“Leave her alone!”

She swung her attention back toward me. “I’ve no interest in her .”

“You’re making a grave mistake, Melantha. Turning her blood to stone will not prevent the inevitable,” Dolion warned, his voice strained as if pained by the spell that held us paralyzed.

“Yet, it was you who raved about it for years. It was you who led the charge to turn her blood to stone, was it not? You sent Zevander to kill her.”

Frowning, I turned to Dolion as much as my movement would allow. “Is this true?”

Melantha chuckled. “You didn’t tell her? Oh, you are a despicable man.”

A remorseful expression twisted his face, stirring the ache in my chest. The betrayal left me biting back tears. “I was wrong. Very wrong. Maevyth has more to offer alive than dead.”

“Of course she does. I’ve no intentions of turning her blood to stone. Not like the piggish men who dream of power they can’t control.” Her comment dragged my attention away from Dolion.

“Then, what do you want with me?”

“I want to return you to Mortasia. To your sister.”

“What?” The unexpected response slapped me upside the head.

“She waits for you at the archway.”

“Do not believe her,” Dolion beseeched. “Believe me, Maevyth.”

Do not believe him . The echoed words of the ghost I’d seen back at Eidolon chimed in my head.

“If I go with you, you’ll promise to let them cleave back.” It wasn’t a request, but a demand.

Melantha gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “I have no business with these two. No interest in the stones.”

“She’s lying!”

Her viperous eyes snapped to Dolion. “You are the one who lied to her, Dolion. I speak the truth. Come with me Maevyth. Aleysia is very anxious to see you again.”

I wanted to believe it, but I’d grown weary of being tricked. I had no idea who to believe. Who to trust. “What do you want from me? Why would you help me? I don’t even know you.”

“I understand you have absolutely no reason to believe, or trust, me. But your choices are diminishing by the minute.” She drew her finger down the wall and pulled at either side of the seam, widening the view that showed the archway on the other side. Beyond it, my sister paced back and forth.

“Aleysia!” I called out to her, and she skidded to a halt, turning to me as if she’d heard me.

Confusion twisted her face. “Maevyth?”

“It isn’t real, Maevyth!” Dolion urged.

“It is real,” the woman assured.

The sound of approaching footsteps and the clank of armor alerted me to the guards that had gotten past the ward and were heading toward us.

“Go to your sister. Or stay and risk capture by the Solassions. Your choice.”

A chaotic mess of thoughts spun in my head. Dolion. Rykaia. Eidolon. And Zevander. Would leaving mean I’d never see him again? Yet, staying ensured that I’d put all of them in danger. I didn’t know the right answer. I lifted my gaze to Aleysia. My sister. Alive. “I’ll go. Just remove the spell on Rykaia.”

Eyes locked on me, she waved her hand toward her, and Rykaia let out a grunt, rolling on the ground, released from the spell.

“Maevyth! Don’t do this! Don’t trust her!” Dolion’s kicking and squirming beside me was only a minor distraction from where my attention remained anchored.

Through the seam, Aleysia continued to pace, biting her nails, as always. I still didn’t bother to look at Dolion when I said, “Please get Rykaia back to Eidolon. Promise me you will.”

“Of course I will, but you cannot trust this woman!”

Even if that was true, I needed an escape. Fast.