Daughter of the Dark Sea, page 43
“We need to go now,” Aryn ordered. “Do your thing, Windward,” he spoke to Raiden.
“Which one of us are you talking to?” Aerion chuckled, and Aryn rolled his slanted eyes.
The knot turned into a barbed twist. Aryn knew the Windward siblings. He knew their names, who were they were . . . what they could do. That they had magic, and it was elemental like hers.
Kora scrambled away. She couldn’t be near this—them. Galen was the enemy. They were bloodthirsty killers, they murdered innocents, and tried to destroy the Azarian Islands in the last war. They killed Eleanore and Erick’s unborn babe.
They were barbarians.
And Aryn was one of them. He didn’t look the same, or act the same as them, but he was intimately familiar.
“Kora,” Aryn hurriedly followed. “You need to trust me. I know it’s scary—”
“You don’t know anything!” she snapped. “You lied to me. Everyone lied to me. You’re a Galenite, aren’t you?”
“I wasn’t born one, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You chose to be one—that’s worse.”
“So did you, once.”
The words stunned her. They couldn’t be true. It wasn’t true. She wouldn’t be something as awful as a Galenite.
“You need to come with us. I’m asking you to trust me one more time, Captain.” Kora winced at the title. “When have I let you down before?”
It was true. Aryn may have lied about a lot of things—too many things to currently process—but he’d always been there. He’d always saved her, and been an ear to listen to her problems. Even his medical field training came in handy a couple times.
Her gaze flickered to the Windward siblings lingering behind him. Aerion smiled at her sheepishly, his features aloof, with his unconscious sister clutched in his arms. Skylar was taller, more muscled than Aerion, but he cradled her as if she were as light as a feather.
Raiden stood apart from them, his fists clenching and unclenching. His gaze wholly fixed on Kora and the world melted away, leaving just her and Raiden in their little void. She was the single point in his life, the blue light revolving around his darkness, and it took her breath away.
A light tremble shook through her, pooling in her core. Raiden’s eyes dipped down, and then back up to her eyes, his lips twitching amusedly. Surely that was better than Talmon? Besides, they held the key to her past—to her family. She needed answers, and the truth. They could possess the power to unlock her memory.
“Okay,” she shakily exhaled.
“Okay,” Aryn smiled gently, his golden eyes beckoning her to follow as he turned back.
A hand reached out and grabbed Kora by the shoulder, digging into her freshly healed wound, and she yelled as she was ripped backwards, careening into a body reeking of petrichor and bitter soil. She writhed, confused by the change of scent, as Blake’s hands clamped around her arms, and Barron stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Raiden Windward,” Barron rolled his name off his tongue. “I’ve been waiting a long time for you to return.”
Raiden’s huge form advanced, positioning his siblings behind him. Aryn nocked an arrow, aiming at Blake, who laughed in return.
“Well, being trapped by magical Mist made it a little difficult. We tried to send postcards.” Raiden shrugged casually. It was a contrast to the barely contained fury on his face.
Trapped.
Kora’s fingers flexed, trying to summon the ocean beneath the ship. Blake tightened his grip, his arms snaking around her body, holding her flush against him. He squeezed until she gasped, the air forcibly pushed from her lungs.
“None of that.” He stroked down the side of her face to her metal collar.
Raiden growled, and an invisible hand whipped Blake, snapping his face to the side.
“Ah, now, now,” Barron unclasped his hands as Blake stumbled with Kora still firmly in his grip. “Let’s play nice, shall we? I do love reunions.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t stay. We’ll take some grog to go.” Raiden bared his teeth.
Aryn tightened his grip on his longbow, the bowstring so taut it shook. But it wasn’t just the longbow. The entire ship was shaking, and Kora teetered as the wooden deck vibrated, shuddering up her legs.
“You see, I can’t allow any of you to leave,” Barron darkly chuckled.
Aerion cursed, and Kora craned her neck, locating the source of the tremor behind them. A large Talmon Empire capital vessel flanked the ship, attached with several, wide gangplanks. Rows of soldiers marched upon the ship across them. An endless stream of bodies. They all donned the black-and-malachite heavy armour, and a stale, rotted stench permeated the air, making her eyes water. Their heavy, booted feet pounded across the decked wood, the ship vibrating with every uniformed step.
There were so many. Gods, they were doomed.
Raiden’s eyes flared, and he glanced around the ship.
“Your fleet has abandoned you,” Barron gestured to the empty oceans. “You’re too weak.”
“Shit.” Aerion tightened his grip on Skylar, who moaned faintly in his arms. “He called the fleet back. We need to go.”
Kora strained against Blake’s clutches. The Galenite fleet had vanished. Not a single white sail peaked on the horizon. Who was Aerion referring to? Who had power to summon an entire fleet in minutes?
“I’m not leaving without her.” A blast of wind circled Raiden, the thick hair atop his head wafting. She could see the glimmer of his magic—a sparkling, iridescent silver, like diamonds, winding around him.
“She doesn’t know who you are,” Barron glanced at Kora with a wink, and that sickening cold crept over her. “Why not start afresh? Leave her with us, where she belongs.”
“Never.” Raiden’s blast of wind increased into a gale force, creating his own little cyclone on the ship. “She belongs in Galen.”
The words simultaneously made her want to scream with horror and jump with joy. It was so nauseating having two selves within her, scrambling to the surface for control.
“She doesn’t want you!” Blake spat. “Kora chose for herself already.” He licked and kissed the side of her face and she wrenched her head away. No thank you.
The realisation dawned in Raiden’s crystalised eyes, and she wasn’t sure why it upset her so much—why it mattered to Raiden that she and Blake used to be an item. He’d said he was nobody important. But now, the sheer pain and rawness in Raiden’s face at Blake staking his claim on her, was completely void shattering.
Raiden’s power exploded—and Kora had never experienced anything like it. It dwarfed her own. The skies thundered, lightning bolting through clear blue sky, crackling across the ship. The air cleaved in two, split apart as a cyclone tore up into the heavens, hurtling their way.
The soldiers rushed across the deck, and Raiden faltered as his magic bounced off them. Aryn fired arrows at the soldiers, but his arrows snapped in half upon impact. They were outnumbered, and they were all going to die, because of her—again.
Raiden turned to face Blake and Kora, and he held out his hand, squeezing an invisible force. Blake stumbled, choking, releasing her. She fell to her knees as Blake coughed and choked, clawing at his neck, gasping for air.
“Run, baby. Run to me!” Raiden yelled over the torrents of his power. She was no one’s baby, but now wasn’t the time for that discussion.
Aerion stumbled onto the railing, his flight suit expanded. Skylar’s unconscious body hovered in the air beside him, blood dripping from her skull.
Kora pelted forwards as Barron howled with a thunderous might. This was it. She had a chance. That tiny kernel of hope exploded in her chest, threatening to blindly consume her as the thundering neared behind her. Desperate. She was so desperate. Or was that Raiden?
“Hurry!” he screamed in her mind.
A wave of cold flashed through the atmosphere, and her back arched painfully, sharp metal slicing down her spine. Her right arm stretched out, reaching for Raiden as he frantically tried to grab hold of her. He was panicked, and it echoed deep in the recesses of her mind, his fear matching her own.
She wasn’t going to make it. No, no, no!
“Raiden, I can’t—”
Her other arm flung back, pressing into the side of her face as her scar flared with a deadly coldness that spread. It snaked down her jaw, curling under the metal collar, like frostbite clenching her windpipe, cutting off her air supply. Her body went rigid, her power fading. Raiden’s grasp was mere inches away, his warmth and presence crying out to her.
“No!”
Raiden’s cry was the last thing Kora heard as her mind and body were ripped back forcefully, dragging her into the cold clutches of death.
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Bring her back.”
“I’m trying, it’s like she’s holding on.”
“Just do it—but not too much. We don’t want her at full power.”
The cold receded. Voices faded in and out. A glimmer of light bled through the crack of silent darkness, and Kora retreated.
It was all too much.
She wasn’t ready to face the world—her world.
But here, she could be free. The silence was comforting, and the darkness soothed her. She floated through empty nothingness. No one telling her what to do, no one telling her what she couldn’t do. No one lying to her.
No one breaking her heart.
“Are your powers waning? Bring her back now.”
The light cracked and she hissed, scarpering further into the depths of death. Small, intricate glowing vines spread from the crack. They were lush and green, with secondary smaller black vines twirling around them. They searched the void, probing . . . hunting.
She kicked out at one and a voice jeered. “She’s fighting me. I’ve never experienced this before.”
As she descended, death’s cold grip became tangible.
Multitudes of hands clawed at her body, dragging her down, down, down.
“No! She’s . . . she’s going to Umbra.”
Ice bloomed in her lungs, her eyes, her hair turning to icicles. Her skin shone blue with death.
“What?” A loud bang thundered through the void. “Must I do everything!”
Invisible wheezy voices shrieked, and the hands of death shrank, dissolving. She tried to cry out, to beg death to take her, but a puff of icy smoke wafted from her lips.
Inky black tar slithered in from the crack. Something darker than night—darker than death. The vines coiled away from it, clinging to the edges of the shining splintered crack. Kora hurried, floating through the void. Gradually, the darkness faded to a hazy mist, speckled with floating ash. The cold no longer existed. Replaced by a numbness.
Sweet, numb relief.
The light of the crack began to fade.
As Kora drifted through the ashen void, her sensations dulled, and a thin, frayed cloth appeared. She floated through it, the fabric sweeping over her, until she was met with another. She floated through that. It was neither cold nor warm, nor light nor dark. It shimmered with . . . something, leaving a trail of sparks on her iced skin.
Layer after layer of fabric folded over her.
“It’s not your time, gifted one.”
She halted in the folds of the cloth. It was iridescent, shimmering from black to grey, tiny sparkles running through the weaves.
“Thanos.”
“Why are you so desperate to enter my realm?”
“I . . .” she hesitated, ashamed to tell the God of Death she’d simply had enough.
“That’s not a reason to die.”
“Right . . . of course you can read my mind.”
Her fingers brushed over the weaves of Thanos’ barrier. His grey cloth, held by his very own hands. Was he above somewhere, manipulating the fabric like a puppeteer? Those individual sparkles glimmered, consuming every possible thread, tiny little dots flittering about.
“They are all of my souls.”
She gasped, spinning around. Thanos’ barrier stretched endlessly, folds upon folds leading to the realm of Umbra, carrying all passed souls—and they were beautiful. She had read of this in Agatha’s tomes, she was in the Eternal Tryk. The passage for souls to enter the spirit realm of Umbra—just on the other side of Thanos’ cloth.
Passing through it was impossible for living souls. She should’ve been absorbed by now, blending into the fabric of realms, finding her eternal resting place in the afterlife . . . if she were truly dead. Instead, she was caught in the swaths of the glittering, heavenly weave.
Gods’ sake, she couldn’t even die properly.
Somewhere, in the endless Eternal Tryk, a familiar soul drifted past. A shining star, a twinkle in the dark of night. It rippled across the folds of the barrier, and a small warmth radiated from it. The scent of wooden ash and smoke permeated the atmosphere.
“Please . . .” Kora trembled. “I can’t.”
“It pains me to see you begging for death. You possess great power, now is not the time to waste it.”
“There’s nothing left for me. My life is destroyed.”
“Life is subjective. Do not complain because you have made mistakes.”
“Mistakes?” She swiped for the cloth, but simply passed through to the next fold. “So many of these souls are here because of me. I condemned them. I . . . killed them. I am a murderer. I do not deserve to even be here. But please . . . I can’t . . .” The urge to weep was overpowering, but frosted ice dusted her cheeks instead.
“Many have killed. And many will continue to do so. Do not bear the burden of the actions of others. I welcome all souls, regardless of their stain on the world. Death changes all.”
“Then please . . . take me.”
“All that happens, is because it was willed to do so. If you cannot enter my realm, then it is not willed.”
“Then will it! Make it so!” She’d had enough.
“Your time is not now. Someday, you will meet your end, at the hands of your own. I cannot let you enter. Your destiny is yet to be fulfilled.”
“What . . . what do you mean?”
“Calypso has more planned for you. I cannot interfere with another god’s will. You have great purpose, Kordelia.”
A terrifying, otherworldly force knocked her back. It enveloped her, pushing her through the depths and away from Umbra. She catapulted through the folds of the barrier, flying through the ashen void, past the frozen tunnel of lost souls.
“Stay strong until we meet again. You are one of the blessed.”
The sickening, inky tar latched onto her back, dragging her towards the light.
“See? She’s coming to.”
“Something wasn’t right. I could feel her at Thanos’ door—”
“Don’t speak his name. We do not worship the old gods anymore.”
The vines tentatively grasped hold of Kora’s limbs before winding around her body, and tears streamed down her face as the barrier to Umbra faded in the distance.
“Kora? Time to wake up.”
Warmth surged through her, her bones snapping back into place, her skin regaining moisture and air as Kora sucked in a hungering, dry breath.
And then she opened her eyes.
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Green light blinded her. Kora’s skin was sallow, and she blinked, adjusting from escaping the Eternal Tryk.
“There she is.”
Barron.
Trees loomed over and all around her. Twisted, thick dark roots clawed from the ground, mud slicking her already filthy leathers. A pair of hands hovered over her body, searching, probing, and she swatted Blake away, scrambling until the rough bark of a tree scraped her back.
She was in the Emerald Forest. Just about. The path to her left led to the Citadel, and through the break of trees, she could spot the sweet, sweet ocean.
Blake paused, his green stare tracking her every movement. He wringed his hands before shaking them, as if something on them bothered him. Barron stood nearby, his oil-black hair dishevelled, donning a black longcoat and shirt. He was surrounded by those guards, and the reek of them made her gag. They smelled unnatural.
“Welcome back, Kora,” Barron sharply smiled. “You gave us quite the scare.”
“How did we get here?”
“Oh, you’ve been unconscious for a day. We needed to get you somewhere safe, away from those pesky rebels.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. The metal collar was still clasped around her neck—the constant reminder she was a prisoner, a slave, to this bilge rat. She used the trunk of the tree to steady herself, slowly raising to her feet. Her legs trembled. She felt so weak.
Blake’s face was taut, lips thin, and he hovered between her and Barron, warily glancing at the latter. Last time she’d been here, she’d revealed her power to him.
Perhaps she could do it again.
In an instant, she flung her hand out, clenching her jaw as she claimed the final small dregs of her power. She was utterly drained—a trip to the Eternal Tryk would do that. A slither of water shot from the ground, spearing to her hand. It morphed instinctively, and she clasped a shimmering sabre dagger, aiming at Barron.
He stood there, his smile broadening into a grin. His dark eyes alight with amusement. “Blake!” He clicked his fingers.
Blake sighed, and with a simple flutter of his fingers, the tree behind her twisted, branches wrapping around her body, pinning her to the trunk. Vines erupted from the ground, twisting around her ankles and wrists, another circling her forehead, pulling her head back roughly against the bark.
Blake prowled slowly, his eyes burning a deep, green ember. A shiver rippled through him, and his dark shadow emerged, echoing his footsteps, but always a second behind. The vines clenched against Kora’s skin. They were cold, and her skin turned blue from their touch.
Blake halted, and her nose wrinkled at his developing scent. He smelled like the earth, of soil and petrichor, and leaves in the autumn. He was the earth. Another elemental counterpart.
“I was disappointed you never noticed,” he spoke quietly. “The blessed can usually recognise each other.”
