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Chapter 21

Karys

The following evening, Dravyn, Valas, Mairu, and I traveled together to the easternmost edge of the Kingdom of Galizur.

As Mairu had predicted, the rest of the Star Goddess's court had followed her lead and chosen to ignore whatever was happening in Avalinth. The Stone Court had been of a similar mind—though the Healing God had mentioned he'd be monitoring the situation and willing to aid us if we returned with any injuries, at least.

The final member of our own court rarely visited the mortal realm, so it was no surprise when Zachar also declined to join us.

So the rest of the Shade Court came alone to where the land narrowed into a peninsula that jutted out into the tranquil turquoise waters of the Kelden Sea.

Mindoth's Keep, the premier training grounds of the Galithian Army, stood in the center of this jutting land.

The waters on either side were filled with ships. Warships—manned by trainees and seasoned soldiers, alike—made up the bulk of them, but there were also vessels carrying various goods of all kinds, most of them hailing from the continent to the north, or the islands in between that continent and Galizur. Part of the training that took place here involved protecting incoming supplies and seeing them properly distributed.

Given all this, the area was well-protected, overall—save for one unfortunate feature: There were an astonishing number of tunnels that crisscrossed beneath it.

Some were natural, a vast network of beach caves that started along the shores of the peninsula, weaved throughout it, and reached for several miles inland. Others were manmade extensions of those caves that had been dug out decades ago. They provided an extra place to hoard supplies, or even to hide people. A few were long enough, and strategic enough, to provide relatively safe, secret routes in and out of the region. Useful in many ways—but they also created a weakness that could be exploited.

Most of the caves had been closed off in recent years, Dravyn told me, because their potentially vulnerable points outweighed their possible benefits.

I knew Cillian, though. He didn't need much to work with to get his job done.

If any vulnerable point remained, he would find it—and he would know the exact weapon to use to bring it crashing down.

As the four of us made our way through the forest of towering pines on the outskirts of the training compound, my mind raced with memories of all the things I'd watched Cillian destroy over the years.

Soon my lungs were burning, my eyes watering, as if I was standing once more in the rubble and dust of one of his explosions.

Dravyn spoke quietly as we darted through the trees, briefing us again on the things he and Valas had discovered previously.

I wiped the moisture from my eyes and tried to hang on to his every word, letting those words pull me away from thoughts of exploding and collapsing things.

"We spotted two encampments during our last visit," he was saying, "one to the north of the Greyveil Peninsula, one to the south. There may be more scattered about. But Cillian was in the northern one, so that's where we're heading. Not far, now."

To our right, we often caught glimpses of the sea and its ships, as well as the occasional outline of walls and battlements, of high watchtowers and drably-colored, sprawling garrisons.

Dravyn knew the area fairly well, as he'd spent some time there with his father and older brother, making inspection rounds and getting first-hand reports from the officers. He'd never taken part in the actual trainings that went on, but he could answer most of my questions about what we were seeing—even the questions I didn't ask out loud—which helped me map out our surroundings and plans, calming my nerves somewhat.

After a few minutes we veered away from the sea. The ground grew more hilly, the trees thicker. We reached the crest of a particularly steep slope and paused. Valas pointed at something far in the distance. Squinting, I could just make out the tiniest glimmer of light through tightly twisting tree branches.

"Lantern light?"

The four of us crept toward it.

We came to a group of guards before we reached the light, but we disposed of them quickly and silently; Mai used her magic to control the very breath in their lungs, holding it until all five of them slumped into unconsciousness.

"I sometimes forget how efficiently you can kill," Valas told her, eyes widening slightly. "It's absolutely terrifying."

He sounded like he was complimenting her, but her gaze was fierce as she snapped it toward him and whispered back, "I didn't kill them."

I wondered how many she had killed in the past, suddenly realizing I didn't know much about her ascension. She was a master of control, now, but had she been a monster in the beginning, too, like so many of the other Marr? A slight chill swept over my skin.

Now wasn't the time for that conversation, maybe.

"It's still quiet," Dravyn commented, motioning to the camp ahead of us.

"That's a good thing, right?" Mai asked.

I tentatively agreed, though I shouldn't have. After years of rebel missions alongside Cillian, I knew the calmness before an explosion all too well…how quickly things could go from absolute stillness to total madness.

We moved to a better vantage point where we could size up the camp in its entirety. It was small, but tightly packed and buzzing with activity. Like a hornet's nest.

"So Cillian is likely here somewhere…" I began.

"The question is where ?" Valas wondered. "We probably shouldn't go person to person inquiring about him. That might look a touch suspicious."

"And we need to move quickly," Dravyn added. "It's only a matter of time before someone notices that their watchmen are unconscious and stuffed in the bushes."

We considered the problem for a moment before Mairu offered a solution. "If one of us creates some sort of commotion, it will likely draw their leaders' attention, if only briefly."

"Flush them out, you mean?"

"Exactly."

I nodded slowly, understanding. "…And one of those leaders will be Cillian."

Valas cleared his throat and gave a little bow. "The God of Commotion and Chaos, at your service."

"Just enough chaos to get their attention," Mairu warned. "We aren't here to escalate this war, remember."

"You speak as though you think I have no self-restraint."

She gave him a withering look.

He smiled.

She coughed. "Right. Moving on." Her gaze narrowed on the camp. "We should probably have eyes and ears in the midst of the camp itself. I can disguise myself and walk among them easily enough, which should allow me to overhear the information we need to pinpoint Cillian."

"And once we do," I said, "I can corner him and talk to him alone."

"And I'll stay close and make sure you aren't interrupted," Dravyn added.

"Perfect," said Valas, rubbing his hands together. "There's no way any of this can go wrong, right?"

I laughed nervously.

"Let's just get on with it," Dravyn said.

Mai was already changing. In the span of a few heartbeats she had lost the radiant luster of her divine body and transformed into a perfectly dull figure with pointed ears, mousy brown hair, and a pleasantly warm, round face—a stark contrast to her normal, fiercely beautiful appearance.

She looked expectantly to Valas before turning and heading into the camp.

The God of Winter set off in the opposite direction.

Dravyn and I held our position, watching and waiting.

Soon, I could no longer see Valas—but I could sense his magic rising.

He began sowing his chaos by targeting the dim lanterns spaced throughout the camp. One after the other they went out, ice crawling into the glass and choking out the flame within.

As the darkness deepened, ice overtook the branches of the trees surrounding the camp as well. Creaks and groans filled the air, followed by violent cracks and crashes as the weight of the ice snapped the weaker branches and sent them plummeting downward.

Lastly, a shimmering, cold mist swept over the area, moving in a way that was clearly unnatural. It left a fine, sparkling film upon everything it touched. In some places the mist pooled, gathering into the shape of beasts that roamed about like ghosts.

These phantom creatures were the breaking point—as soon as they appeared, the shouts began in earnest, panic spreading from one end of the camp to the other as the elves rushed about grabbing weapons and searching for the source of the frigid, invading magic.

"The ghosts are a bit much," Dravyn said under his breath.

"If they keep eyes off us, I'll forgive his showiness, just this once."

"Fair enough."

We drew our hooded cloaks tightly around ourselves and carefully weaved into the chaos.

Between the hoods, the increased darkness, and the distractions Valas had created, we were able to almost completely avoid unwanted attention.

I listened for the sound of Mairu's voice among the shouting. She was melding perfectly with the panicking crowd, calling out orders to stay calm—as if she was not only an elf who belonged in this place, but one with authority. She was also calling out a question that seemed perfectly reasonable from a person trying to maintain order: Cillian…where is Cillian?

After she'd gotten her answers, I felt her magic crawling over me, turning my head in her direction. She discreetly signaled for me to walk toward her.

We stepped away from the crowds, and she covertly relayed the details she'd gathered to Dravyn and me.

Following her information brought us to the very edge of the camp, to a sloping hill that led down to a clearing where a circle of tents had been erected. Dravyn paused at the top of the hill, keeping one eye on the chaotic camp behind us while I crept my way toward the clearing below.

I caught a flash of blond hair darting between the shadowy trunks. A male figure moving on light, silent feet. His gait seemed familiar.

Cillian?

I pressed myself flat against the nearest tree, holding my breath as I studied his tall figure in the falling darkness, making sure it was really him.

It was.

He spoke briefly to a soldier who had been standing guard at the largest of the tents. He waved this soldier away—pointing him toward the chaos still building in the main camp—then he disappeared inside the tent.

Nothing between us now except a short stretch of forest and a flimsy flap of canvas.

Dravyn stayed on top of the hill, keeping watch. The space between us felt vast, but warmth reached through it a moment later, settling in my bones, and I heard his voice in my mind—

I'm watching over you. Go.

Before I could lose my nerve, I went.

I ran straight for the tent, hesitating only an instant before crashing inside, nearly colliding with Cillian in the process.

He stumbled back, reflexively whipping the short sword from his side and pointing it at me.

I lifted my palms and moved into the soft glow of the lantern hanging from the tent's center.

He gasped. Shook his head. Slowly lowered his sword. "Karys? Is that really you?"

I was speechless for a moment, all of my carefully-rehearsed lines forgotten, my body trembling as I tried to suppress the storm of emotions rising inside me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked.

I forced myself to remember the plans I'd made, the lists of questions I'd planned to ask. The storm inside me quieted. I lowered my hands and took a step closer to Cillian. "I've come to stop you."

"…Stop me?"

"To make you see reason. I…I know what you and the other rebels are planning to do tonight, and you can't go through with it. An attack on this place will trigger complete war."

He stared at me as though I was speaking an entirely different language.

Because complete war was the plan, of course. I knew that. I was just hoping he would deny it.

I wanted him to lie. To try and hide what he was doing, because that would mean he was at least somewhat ashamed of it. And if he had shame—and regret—somewhere in his heart, maybe I could still get him to change his mind.

He sheathed his sword, turning away from me and walking to a small folding desk that had been set up against the back of the tent.

The space seemed to expand around us, the air thinning as it did.

"I'm glad you're safe." His voice was quiet. Conflicted, I thought, which gave me a glimmer of hope.

But then he looked over his shoulder, and I saw the resolve settling among the shadows on his face. He looked older than I remembered, and somehow smaller—like a distant relative of the person I'd known.

"I'm glad you're safe," he repeated, quieter. "But that doesn't change what has to be done tonight."

"Nothing has to be done," I whispered, fiercely.

"No? So things stay the same, then. The humans continue to multiply and drive us to extinction while the gods champion their cause." He braced his hands against the table. Several of his fingers were wrapped in dirty bandages, I noticed. Another tattered strip of cloth covered his right forearm.

It was not surprising; he was always nicking or burning or otherwise maiming his skin during all his experiments with weapons. This, combined with my talent for healing, had given us plenty of opportunities to bond over the years. And perhaps I had exchanged my healing prowess for more fiery ambitions, but I still had to fight the urge to scold him for not keeping his bandages cleaner.

"Have you already forgotten what it was like to live in this realm?" he asked. "To be beaten down a little more each day? To be fallen and cursed?"

I moved to the other side of the table. There was a symbol carved into its center, dissected by the line of its hinged folding point—a circle containing the vine and thorn wrapped daggers of the once-powerful elven House of Moreth. It made me think of Andrel and his family's manor—this symbol had graced so much of the furniture back in that old home of his.

My stomach twisted. I couldn't bring myself to touch the wood, to steady myself against the table even as Cillian lifted his gaze to me and my balance swayed.

His smile was strained. He refused to let it disappear entirely—like he was trying his best to return to an easier time, when we used to spend hours talking about anything and everything—the good, the bad, the messy. "You don't remember, do you?"

"Cillian, I…"

He averted his eyes. "I heard rumors that you snuck your way into Ederis a few days ago."

I didn't deny it.

"Some of the witnesses swear they saw you summon fire."

My breath hitched.

"Is it true? Are you so close with the gods now that they've granted you divine magic?"

He didn't have any idea just how close I was.

None of them did, I realized.

Andrel knew more than anyone, probably, but who knew what he'd told them—how he'd picked apart and distorted the truth to suit his own agenda. I was scared to think about it.

"I'm glad at least one of our kind has the power we once did, and yet…" He stared past me, frowning. "Whatever they've given you, I'm sure there will be a steep price for it. Monsters don't give without expecting anything in return."

"Not all of the gods are monsters."

He hesitated. Had he even heard what I said? Was he truly considering the possibility?

Another flutter of hope stirred in my chest as the seconds ticked by.

But then he asked, "What about our kind, then? Are we the monsters? All of us?"

I fumbled for a response but didn't find one before he kept talking.

"The humans think so. They treat us as such no matter what, so how could we act any different?" He spoke in a quiet, almost thoughtful tone. Even now, while my own heart felt like it might pound right out of my chest, he was the pillar of calmness he'd always been to me.

"You aren't a monster," I told him. "Not the same kind as Andrel and his followers. I know you aren't. You helped me escape the last time we saw each other."

I had replayed that scene endlessly in my mind over the past weeks, but there was no flash of recognition in his bright green eyes as I spoke of it.

It felt very far away, suddenly, as if it had happened in another lifetime. In some ways, I guess it had.

"Cillian, listen to me. Please . It isn't so black and white as we—as I—once thought it was."

He again seemed briefly intrigued by the idea, only to ultimately shrug it off. The gesture felt more tired than dismissive, like he was on the verge of giving up, too exhausted to keep carrying the crushing weight of all our kind's struggles on his shoulders. Like he needed to shrug at least some of it away if he was going to keep moving.

"I don't mind being called a monster, for what it's worth," he said, his tone still hushed. "Sometimes, it takes a few seemingly monstrous actions to make things happen for the greater good. You know that. How many conversations have you and I had about this very thing?"

A lot .

More than I could count. But he seemed different from the Cillian I'd had those conversations with.

Or maybe I was the one who had changed.

My heart no longer pounded. It felt like it was shriveling up instead. I desperately wanted to let the rest of me do the same, but I kept talking.

"How many?" I asked. If I couldn't talk him out of his plans to cause further destruction, I at least needed to gather details about what those plans entailed.

His eyes turned glassy. He didn't answer me.

"Cillian, how many weapons have you planted ? How many soldiers are you ordering into the keep tonight?"

Still nothing.

"How many lives are you planning to take?"

He finally snapped out of his stoic stance. His tone was a mixture of barely-suppressed anger and bitterness as he said, "It isn't about taking individual lives. It's about the bigger picture. The future. Our future. You were an important fixture of that future, once upon a time."

"I haven't abandoned you all, I speak for the gods at the moment, but I…I…"

"If you are here to speak for the gods, then you speak in favor of the ones those gods are ultimately sworn to protect. In favor of humans, in other words. And you know as well as I do that both are—and always will be—our enemies."

I opened my mouth. Closed it. My hands were burning. I bowed my head and stared at my palms, at the lines of fire starting to show upon my skin.

"Just answer one question for me," Cillian said.

The weight of his gaze made me feel like I was sinking.

"Whose side are you on?"

I clenched my hands into fists. The heat in them continued to build, but I ignored it as I lifted my eyes to my old friend and tried—unsuccessfully—to answer without letting my voice break. "It's complicated. We can talk about it later, I swear, I just need you to stop whatever it is you planned to do tonight so that tomorrow we can—"

"It's too late for that."

"It isn't ."

"You should go. There are more of our rebels coming, and tonight is about more than just blowing random things up, it's…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Just leave, Karys. Please. You can't win this particular battle." The glassy look in his eyes cracked, letting a glimmer of his usual affection toward me shine through.

When I remained rooted to my spot, he shook his head at me, a side of his mouth edging up in a tired smile.

"What was the first thing I taught you when I started taking you on missions with me?" he asked.

I swallowed down the argument I'd been building. Nearly choked on it. "Live to fight another day," I answered.

"Exactly. Because you can't further any cause…"

"If I'm dead."

He nodded. We had become a mentor and mentee once more, if only for the span of a few painful heartbeats. It couldn't last. I was not the same child I'd once been, eager to follow his lead—I was prepared to stand my ground, to argue against him in a way I never had before.

At least until something odd caught my attention.

Turning away from Cillian, I stepped closer to the entrance of the tent, listening for the roar of chaos outside, and I heard…

Nothing .

The night had gone completely silent.

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