Chapter 30

" A re you sure that you want to go through with this?" Sir Magis asks as he pours the bubbling green liquid into a vial. "There's still time for me to test below ground." His eyebrows raise suggestively.

"Not happening. Let's get this over with… unless you've decided to back out of our deal? We both know what happens if you do," I remind him, though it sends a sickening shiver up my spine. One day I will owe him a favor. Carte blanche. That is the other side of this blood oath that cannot be undone.

He pushes the cork into the vial and sighs. "Very well, then. Let's go over the procedure." The pages of the book Sir Magis brought are falling apart, held together precariously by a cracked leather spine. The language is nearly illegible, but from what I can tell, it's in a foreign tongue. He reads over the inscription once more before walking toward me. "Concentration is key. Focus only on the desired outcome and allow all passing thoughts to flutter by unnoticed. Dig into the desire, hold it, feel it, make it your own."

"I can do that," I say more to myself than to him.

"When you're in the right mental headspace, repeat these words, ‘Ovala mis ulas tes godillia tios hidia,' and then swallow the potion." He hands me a handwritten slip of parchment paper with the words in case I forget.

"How do I say this?" The language is foreign. What if I mispronounce or fumble over my words and accidentally turn myself into a bronze bust?

He repeats the words slowly, forming the letters on the tip of his tongue.

I try to replicate it but find myself tongue-tied.

"Focus on the words. Don't overthink it," he tells me.

"Ovala… mis ulas… tes godillia… tios hidia."

"Very good. Practice as much as you need until you're ready."

"Okay, I can do this." My feeble attempt to mask the fear in my voice has the opposite effect. Rather than appearing confident, the chord of terror echoes throughout the room.

He scratches his head, mumbling incoherently to himself. "Right. Well, whenever you're ready."

"Okay, I can do this." I meant to keep that affirmation to myself, but it slipped from my tongue.

Getting into the right mental space is the hardest part. A large portion of my time with Sir Magis has focused on clearing my mind so that I can bolster the deep mental and physical connection required to perform magic. For some, it's as easy as breathing. For me, it's next to impossible. My mind is a cluttered and chaotic space, always tugging me back into its depth and obscuring my focus.

Sir Magis taught me a series of measures that help. Breathwork comes first. Slowly inhaling and exhaling, I try to remove all needless distractions. Each time a passing thought enters my mind, I envision myself plucking the thought away and drop kicking it into oblivion. Some days I never get past this step… but today will be different. It has to be different. Otherwise, well, I don't want to think about what might happen otherwise.

When I try to begin this process, a whisper purrs in the back of my mind. It asks, are you there? Are you there? I do my best to quiet it.

I picture myself walking out of this room and seeing the invisibles standing there, looking them square in the eyes and knowing that they no longer hold the advantage of staying hidden. I feel their power over me fading. I see them. They only observe what I want them to see. They only hear what I let them hear. That gives me the power. That gives me the upper hand.

Breathe in… and out.

When every crevice of my mind is empty of stray thoughts, I suck in a heap of air and proceed.

"Ovala mis ulas tes godillia tios hidia," I proclaim it with all of the confidence I can muster before popping the cork and swallowing the potion in one gulp. It's sour and makes my lips pucker. A tingling sensation forms in my blood and courses through my veins, lapping through my body. An intense pressure forms behind my eyes like they're trying to escape from the sockets. I cover them with my palms and try my hardest to focus only on the outcome.

Knowledge. Freedom. Leverage.

But that focus slips away when I pull my hands down and see only darkness.

"No! No! No!" I scream, feeling the darkness around me like a suffocating cloud.

"Keep focusing, Radya! Repeat the incantation!" Sir Magis yells, but a whooshing sound in my ears deafens all outside noise like I'm standing in the center of a storm. His voice may as well be a mile away.

"Ovala mis ulas tes godillia tios hidia!" I repeat.

The invisibles have no hold over me! I can see them, which means I can control them. They cannot hide from me any longer!

"Ovala mis ulas tes godillia tios hidia!"

An image begins to form in the darkness like a mirage of shadows, etching out the shape of a man and a woman. The shadows swirl like paint until the faces become clear. A woman's bright blue eyes and a man's golden hair pierce through the darkness.

Are those… my parents?

"Focus!" Sir Magis' warns, placing his hand on my shoulder. I feel the pressure of it, can tell that it's there, but it's too distant, too unreal.

How am I supposed to resist my parents? I've been so lonely without them – my biggest supporters, my only family.

No, I need to focus on the spell.

"Ovala mis ulas tes godillia…"

My voice breaks as my mother reaches out to me. I know that I shouldn't reach for her, but I want to. More than anything I've ever wanted.

"My darling daughter," my father's gentle voice greets me like a hug. It's been close to two decades since I last heard him speak, but it's just as warm and pure as I remember. A transcendent peace shines through his smile.

"She's beautiful, Alaric," my mother whispers to her love. Though in her life she spent more time smiling than not, her eyes always carried just a hint of sorrow. But now, I see no traces of sadness or pain. Only happiness in its purest form.

"Come with us," they say in unison. "Let's be a family again."

They are the peace in the storm, and I could be with them. We could be a family again. No more invisibles or gods-given gifts. No arranged marriages or scattered prophecies. All of my troubles would disappear if I just reached out my hand…

"Radya, whatever you're seeing right now isn't real! Don't give in to it!" Sir Magis shouts into my ear as he shakes my arm. "Repeat the incantation!"

My mother beckons me forward once more, "Come, child. Join us and everything will be okay. On the other side, nothing can separate us. We can be together forever."

Could the promise of forever be worth the sacrifice? My life in exchange for family?

"Have you read our letters, sweetheart? Do you understand why we did the things that we did?" My father asks, which jogs a memory that I'd long since forgotten.

My mother gave me a box of letters when I was thirteen and told me only to open them when life stopped making sense. At the time, I wanted more than anything to open the box and read its content, since nothing makes sense as a teenager, but she urged me to wait. I wanted so badly to read my father's words. But in time, I stopped trying, stopped caring. The box remained hidden beneath my bed – its contents never seen.

Now it's too late.

"No, I haven't," I whisper. The disappointment and regret gnaw at me until I almost give in to the alluring temptation.

"Remember who you are, my sweet, darling girl. You are more special than the heavens." My dad moves closer to me. So close that I could step into his arms for the first time in nearly two decades.

"Plant your feet into the ground! Wiggle your toes. Feel my hand on your arm! This is reality! Whatever is tempting you is a mere mirage! Focus only on the spell and cast away the shadows!" Sir Magis cries out, gripping my arm so hard that it will surely leave a bruise. The pain of it awakens something inside of me, snapping my attention back to earth. As I wiggle my fingers and toes, grounding myself, the image of my parents starts to slip away. Their image wanes little by little, until I am once again all alone in this world.

"Ovala mis ulas tes godillia tios hidia!"

A final burst of roaring wind swirls around me, and I fall to my knees, bringing Sir Magis down with me. I try to scream the incantation over the deafening sound, but the wind swallows the words whole.

Sir Magis squeezes my shoulder so hard that I fear that I am the only tether keeping him from being swept into another world.

And then it all stops.

The death grip eases. The room settles into quiet. The wind disappears. The tingling in my veins subsides and light pierces through the veil over my eyes, slowly revealing the room around me. Papers are scattered across the room, chairs lie flipped on their sides, and every candle is extinguished.

"Radya! Are you okay?" Sir Magis snaps his fingers in front of my eyes.

"Did you see them?" If the air in this room physically reacted to the spell in such a real and powerful way, then what if it also brought my parents to me, and it wasn't a hallucination? No, that can't be. Because if they were real and not just an apparition, then I could have joined them. Did I squander my chance to reunite with my family?

It had to be imaginary.

It had to be.

"Whom did you see?" Alarm rings through his eyes, wrinkles his brow, and echoes in his voice as he reaches out his hand, beckoning me to my feet. But I'm not ready to move, not ready to let go.

"I saw… I saw… " I choke on the words as tears well up behind my eyes.

"Spells of this caliber have made even the sanest of people go mad. The magic preys on their vulnerabilities before granting their wish, showing them impossible dreams to tempt them into madness." He pauses to look at me, letting out a sigh marked by pity. "Whatever, or whomever, you saw… it wasn't real. Don't let the madness take hold."

My parents are gone and never coming back. They weren't here. And even if they were, could I forgive them for what they did? If it weren't for their decision to cross the border into Mendacia, then none of this would have happened.

Are the parents that I remember even worthy of my tears? How do you reconcile happy memories with tainted truth?

Maybe I've always been alone. Maybe I always will be alone.

"Radya? Speak to me. What's going on inside your head?" Sir Magis stands hunched over, hands on his knees, peering down at me.

"Nothing," I breathe, shaking away all thoughts of the family that was or could have been. The rosy memory of them is no more real than the hallucination. "Did it work?"

"You tell me."

All I can do is let it go and drive the madness back inside.

"Right. Where are the invisibles usually stationed?"

"That's hard to say, as I have not removed the blinders myself. I would assume that they're waiting outside of this room."

"There's only one way to find out," I say, turning myself into a pillar of steel and ice.

All sorts of debris litter the room, so I carefully step over each obstacle before reaching the door. When I touch the handle, a thought occurs to me. If the spell caused so much damage in this room, did it also affect the rest of the palace? If so, would everyone in the palace know what took place?

Now that I think about it, did I explicitly forbid Sir Magis from telling anyone about my request? I assumed that he would understand the need for secrecy involved here, but I didn't require it as a part of the blood oath.

Before turning the handle, I look over my shoulder at Sir Magis, who is now tidying the papers on the old wooden desk. He's moving lightly across the mess; quite calm and unbothered for someone keeping a secret from their king.

He wouldn't have told the king of our plans, would he?

The paranoia echoing in my brain will not cease now that the seed is planted. I have to ask, "Did you tell anyone that we were attempting this spell?"

A crooked smile forms on his lips as he replies, "Of course not."

"Do you plan to tell anyone?"

"Of course not," he says again.

"Good, please keep it that way," I assert, trying to evoke a tone that borders on threatening.

"It will be our little secret." He taps his fingernails on the desk in a grim rhythm akin to a death march, which makes me ill at ease.

I was in such haste to get this done that I neglected some of the most important details of the blood oath. Secrecy and success should have been obvious inclusions, yet such conditions never crossed my mind. If this comes back to bite me, then I will have only myself to blame.

But there's nothing that can be done about that now. All I can do is learn whether or not the spell worked.

Bracing myself for the pangs of failure, I open the door slowly. My body tenses with anticipation and nerves ratcheting up my legs.

What if this didn't work? What if I wasted precious time chasing down a bogus spell? What if the spell succeeded but Guylita can't help?

I'm doomed no matter what happens, aren't I?

No, I can't think like that. I have to do everything in my power to seek the truth before I sign my life over to the king.

I step into the hallway and hold my breath.

There's nobody here. Not an invisible, nor a guard. Not the king, nor his court. Only a very dirty Moose. A trail of mud in the shape of his paws lines the floor leading from around the corner to where he stands. And no matter how hard I try to keep him from jumping on me, he just keeps trying. Little guy is persistent, that's for sure.

He barks twice, tail wagging wildly, and stares like he's waiting for something. I'm not sure what he wants, but he barks once more before scampering away. He pauses at the corner, where he barks again.

"What is it, Moose?"

His barked reply sounds almost like a cry, a desperate plea for attention.

Is he asking me to follow him? I suppose there's no harm in it, so I oblige. He licks my hand when I reach him before continuing through the winding hallway. And unlike the study, not a single item is askew. For that, I breathe a sigh of relief.

I keep my eyes peeled for the invisibles, but every step I take without sighting one of them causes my stomach to turn.

Moose's tail remains straight, nose is fixed on the floor, as we search for whatever it is that he's trying to show me. Only Moose and the gods know what that something might be.

My heart ricochets in my chest when I find the invisibles guarding a door. Their red eyes, visible even in the daylight, don't react as I approach. For the first time, I have the opportunity to fully take them in without panic obscuring my vision. Their pale skin is touched with a dull glow, and their crooked fingers hang by their sides. Their milky white heads are like a full moon cresting over them. They are fully corporeal amidst the waning daylight, and utterly terrifying. How did I witness them on that first day without bursting into complete hysterics?

But holy gods, it worked! It takes every ounce of self-restraint to hold my celebration inside. The last thing I want is for the invisibles to realize what I've done, for this spell is only useful so long as they're unaware.

Moose sits next to me, eyes fixed on the door. Was he leading me toward the invisibles? Perhaps he's smarter than I give him credit.

Suddenly, the invisibles step aside to allow Olly and Landers to swagger out of the room, each one carrying a bottle of mead. Moose barks at them with as much ferocity as a twenty-pound dog can muster.

"Ah, of course. My dear friend, Radya," Landers slurs, slinging his arm around Olly's shoulder. "How is my prince-y boy treating you?"

Olly doubles over to stifle his laughter, but that only increases it tenfold. They're both bursting at the brim with giggles, and apparently drunk off their asses.

"Hello, Landers. Great to see you putting your mead to good use," I clip. Dealing with Landers is the last thing I want. I might rather take on a pack of concos than deal with his snide comments right now. Couldn't I enjoy just one hint of celebration before he ruined it with his presence?

"Mead? Oh, no, Radya. This isn't my mead. This is one-hundred-year-old scotch. Distilled by a master at his craft. It's finer than any swill you've ever tasted." Landers casts a judgmental look in my direction, but it seems to take a great degree of concentration to do so.

"The only swill I've tasted is your gods-awful creation. So, yes. I'm sure that is far finer." Seriously, what is the point of taunting me? What does he get from this?

"Are you two done? I saw a magnifi –" Olly stops mid-sentence and slaps his hand over his mouth. His entire body spasms as the hiccup erupts through him. "- Magnificent pie being prepared earlier today, and I'd like to –" hiccup "– Enjoy it with the both of you. Can you make peace until then?" He sways from side to side as his vacant eyes try to focus.

"No, you two enjoy your pie. I'm returning to my room." I'm certainly not about to sit down with those two drunken fools.

"Oh noooooo," Landers cries with feigned regret.

"I'm sure you're quite devastated," I say to Landers and then proceed to ignore him completely. "Olly, will I still see you tomorrow morning for our lesson?"

"Olly, Olly, Olly, why does she call you Olly?" Landers' drunken buffoonery is starting to irritate me.

"Excuse me? That's his name. Do you want me to refer to him as His Royal Highness?"

"Anything is better than Olly," he bites as if the name offends him. Olly, on the other hand, appears more amused than anything.

"What's wrong with Olly? That's how he introduced himself, so that's the name he'd like to be called." Haven't we been through this before? Why is he so offended? And if it is offensive, then why won't Olly correct me himself?

"Only his dearest friends call him Olly," he slurs into Olly's ear.

Is he being territorial? Does he want to be the only one who has the prince's ear? Does it make him feel special to be the only one to call him by his nickname? Maybe he is threatened by me – afraid that I might steal his best friend away, or something. Who would he have left to get drunk with after his friend becomes a married man and a king, no less?

"Now, now, children! Break it up!" Olly steps between us, clapping his hands. "Radya, yes, I will see you tomorrow morning. Let the sobering up –" hiccup "– commence."

Judging by the glazed-over look in Landers' eyes, I can tell that he has no plans of sobering up any time soon.

"Did you get my flowers?" Landers slurs, wearing a devilish grin.

Olly elbows him in the ribs.

"Why did you send me flowers?" My head cocks to the side, waiting to understand the joke. He doesn't explain. Rather, he bursts into laughter.

"Enough!" Olly points his finger in the air and then points it to the other end of the hallway. "Onward!"

They begin to march away from me with exaggerated steps, fumbling slightly but recovering quickly. Moose growls as they leave, brushing right past the two invisibles, who are as visible as any human.

A smile curls on my lips, and I send a silent thanks to Moose for sending me right to them.