13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Ariella
T he wind screams, a vicious howl that drowns all sound except the pounding of my heart. The ground is unstable beneath my feet—more like a series of shifting illusions than solid terrain. I swear I can see the streets of Whisterra peeking through the sky. I keep running anyway, not having any other choice, stumbling but driven forward by sheer will. Black tendrils of void-like essence snap at my heels, eager to consume anything in their path. I clutch the artifacts against my chest, their energy pulsing through my hands. They’re impatient, ready to forge the Accord that will hopefully save the realms by binding them together. It's the theory of a seer, but we've no time to think of any other options—or what will happen if this Accord doesn't work. So I hold on to the artifacts as if my life depends on it…because it does. Their touch burns cold, sending spikes of pain up my arms, but I can’t release them. Not now. We’re almost there.
“Hurry, Aris!” Caelum shouts, his voice barely audible over the deafening chaos.
I risk a glance at him, catching the briefest glimpse of his determined face, streaked with sweat and dirt. His hair, once a rich, vibrant hue, is now tangled by the violent gusts of raw essence whipping wildly around him. Even in this chaos, there’s a fire in his eyes—a mixture of faith and desperation.
“We’re running out of time!” he adds, his voice strained. His arm snaps out, shoving me to the side just as a piece of the ground breaks away and falls into the sky.
My chest constricts—not just from the air that feels like thick sludge, or the fact that I’ve been running like this for hours, but from the weight of what I haven’t told him. He deserves to know , a voice whispers in my mind, but I shove the thought aside. There is only the Accord now. Only the fragments of reality I must bind…before it costs us everything.
The air is suffocating, each breath more a struggle than the last. I gasp, my throat raw, the taste of metallic essence coating my tongue. Pressure from the other realm bears down on me, making my limbs feel heavy and foreign. For a moment, I falter as the atmosphere itself tries to crush my resolve. The twisting strands of essence, pulling our realms together, seem to grow more frantic and demanding by the second. Their pull is both physical and mental—a gaping void threatening to devour everything.
“It’s too much!” I yell, my voice cracking as I try to fight the dread rising, churning every organ inside me. “Everything’s breaking apart faster than we expected! We’re not going to make it, Caelum!”
He grabs my hand as we sprint, fingers warm and firm against my cold, trembling skin. “Whatever happens, I’m here with you,” he replies, silver eyes locked on mine .
There’s a beat—a silent promise exchanged between us. I nod, even as a lump forms in my throat, and we continue to press forward. The world around us is a riot of clashing colors—brilliant whites colliding with demanding blues, pinks, and purples, like dawn and dusk locked in battle. The wind cuts at my face, leaving stinging welts, burns forming from the relentless assault of the elements. More essence strands whip past, each one shrieking like a wraith.
As we approach the steep incline, the ground beneath us trembles violently again. I squeal, almost slipping, but Caelum’s arm hooks around my waist, steadying me, though not stopping our momentum. For a fleeting moment, I lean into him, seeking reassurance in his touch.
“Stay with me,” he breathes, so close I can feel the heat of his words against my ear. It’s not a command, but a plea.
I want to respond, to reassure him, but the truth lodges in my throat. “Just a little further,” I manage to say, voice thick with a fear I cannot hide.
We crest the incline, and I cry out as the crystal finally looms ahead—its massive form a stark contrast to the chaos. It glows with a steady, eerie light, a beacon of stability in a realm collapsing around us. I can feel its pull, like a magnet drawing my essence toward it.
“It’s here,” I yell, grasping the artifacts tighter. I want to feel relieved, but I know better. “This is it.”
Caelum releases my arm, moving beside me to shield my body from a burst of wild essence that lashes out, black and jagged. He blocks it effortlessly, his strength unwavering. Our essence is volatile and unpredictable, yet he somehow manages to weave enough to cover us. “What now?”
I fumble, placing the artifacts—a heartstone, my mother’s favored hand mirror, and the jewelry box that’s served generations of my family—down before the crystal. My hands shake as I start the ritual, the strands of essence fighting against me. Each one feels like a barbed wire, slicing through my concentration. The process is excruciating, but I cannot afford to falter.
“ Eris’ena ēthra ulthira, sey’enya varan’dai élum. Arisēth velūra, éna na’yris .” Become one with the binding essence, take form within the eternal vow. Seal your power, accept the sacrifice.
I push the first artifact into the crystal as it opens itself to the binding, and a relieved breath fills my lungs. The first part of the Accord is done, just three more to go. Caelum watches me intently as I grab the mirror next. “What’s happening?” he asks, voice barely audible over the winds.
My stomach twists. I don’t look at him as I answer before repeating the words to bind the second artifact. “It’s…complicated,” I reply, my voice tight and urgent. “I have to bind them using part of my essence.”
He doesn’t move, but I sense a shift in his aura—a silent acknowledgment of the stakes. “And what do you need from me?”
My heart feels like it’s breaking. “Just stay close,” I say after the crystal accepts the next artifact. “Stay with me, no matter what. If this doesn't work, I love you.”
I want to say more, but force myself to focus, to channel the energy through the last artifact. The crystal hums, responding to the ritual, its surface glowing brighter. It feels like I’m tearing reality apart to piece it back together again. Everything sharpens—the colors, the sounds, the pressure against my skin. The air vibrates with tension, almost like the realm itself is holding its breath.
And then, a sound—a horrible, wet crunch.
I whip around, eyes wide as the ritual’s words die on my tongue. Caelum stands there, his expression shifting from confusion to pain. The jagged shard of dark essence juts out from his chest, black ichor dripping down its edge. His breath catches, a choked gasp escaping him. His eyes lock onto mine—they express so much without any words. Admiration, love, regret, acceptance.
“No!” I scream, the word tearing from my throat.
I reach for him, everything around me blurring into a nightmarish swirl as I drop the jewelry box. He tries to speak, but blood bubbles at his lips. His knees buckle, and he collapses, his gaze still fixed on me, full of nothing but happiness through our shared bond.
“I’m sorry!” I cry, lunging forward, but I’m too late. The vision fractures like shattered glass.
The darkness splinters as I jolt awake, heart still pounding from that final, brutal image. It must have been some kind of vision, because that was no dream. My breath is ragged, each inhale clawing its way into my chest. My fingers clutch the rough blanket beneath me, needing to grip reality itself.
What in the fucking Aether was that ?
Caelum. His bloodied form still lingers in my mind, the haunting image too vivid to shake. Who was that? I force a brittle exhale as I try to ground myself in the present.
My surroundings come into focus slower than I'm comfortable with—the dim glow of embers in the fire pit, the fresh scent of the growing herbs lingering in the cool air. I’m in the room Rael provided. The fabric is soft but foreign, and for a moment, I feel unsteady, unsure of where the vision ends and reality begins.
I’ve never felt so terrified as I did moments ago.
I turn my head, finding a pair of dark eyes already fixed on me. Rael sits in front of the bed, his expression one of eerie calm, as if he’s been waiting for this moment. His long, dark hair flows over the shoulders of his black robe, severe against the gold marking his skin. But it’s his eyes that keep catching me. They seem to shift—what was a deep brown not a moment ago is now golden and inquisitive.
My attention darts to Caspian as he stirs, his muscles tense, having placed himself at the edge of the bed between Rael and me.
“Rael,” I rasp, my voice weaker than I’d like, as if I haven’t consumed water in days. “You knew. Did the Seer warn you of this? Is that why you were so eager to escort us to this room?”
Rael's head tilts, his gaze steady as his translator steps forward, speaking his leader's words with practiced ease. “Yes, the Seer informed me of the vision you were to have shortly after arriving.” The translator’s voice is low but assured. There’s no surprise, only curiosity and expectation .
I swallow hard, my throat painfully dry. “Why didn't you tell me.” It’s not a question; more an accusation. My chest tightens as I fight the urge to lash out, to demand answers I can’t even form into words yet.
Rael nods once, still watching me with an unwavering gaze as the translator continues. “Not a choice of mine, Serathis. the Seer believed your ignorance was necessary.”
The weight of those words settles over me, and I loathe their suffocating presence. Who does he think he is? “I felt everything ,” I growl, the words leaving my mouth before I can stop them.
Rael’s eyes soften, but there’s no comfort to find in his gaze. The translator speaks again. “It is not over, Serathis. The vision was necessary for you to understand the gravity of what has yet to be revealed.” Rael stands, his robe brushing the floor as he pivots toward the door, not looking back. The translator repeats his next word without pause, “Come.”
I push from the bed and snatch a water pack, eyes rolling as I down the contents too quickly, coughing. Caspian gestures for me to follow, and we walk down from the room, almost losing Rael as he disappears around a structure. We catch up, and I shake out my hands, feeling jittery and on edge.
The prince leans in, keeping his voice low. “Are you okay? I tried to wake you when he showed up, but he was adamant that I not interrupt whatever you were experiencing.”
I nod, though whether it’s to his question or statement, I’m unsure. I bite the inside of my cheek as we pass through the city once more. The sun has begun setting, meaning I was asleep for at least a few hours.
It felt like days inside that dream—no, vision.
The temple isn’t what I expect. Instead of descending underground, we climb higher into the ancient trees. Their massive trunks twist together, forming natural pathways that spiral upward. The bark beneath my fingers thrums with energy—essence woven so deeply into the living wood that it feels like touching a raw nerve. It seems different to me now, after the vision. More alive.
Rael guides us through the winding path, his movements fluid and precise. At the entrance to what appears to be a tunnel formed by intertwined branches, he signals for his people to remain behind, aside from the translator. Caspian and I follow.
He holds up a hand, asking us to wait while he fetches the Seer. But before he can leave, a chuckle of air bursts from his chest as a figure emerges from the shadows.
My breath catches. The being before us is striking—tall and otherworldly, with features too perfect to be human. Their white hair cascades like liquid moonlight, but it’s their eyes that hold me. Where eyes should be, there are empty sockets that somehow still seem to see everything.
“Not of this world, indeed,” they say, responding to my unspoken thought.
My hand twitches toward my blade, but before I can reach it, they’re beside me, fingers brushing my arm. “That won’t be necessary, Ariella.” Their touch lingers for a moment before they draw something from within their robes—a blade unlike any I’ve seen before. The hilt gleams a soft gold, as though it emits its own light, with intricate patterns etched deep into the metal, winding toward a rounded edge. A deep-purple stone sits at the center, seeming to absorb every bit of light and energy grazing its surface. The blade itself is black—an interesting change from the silver metal I'm accustomed to—and I now wish for all of my blades to be made in the same manner. It's beautiful. The Seer offers it to me with both hands, reverence in their motion. The silver coating their fingernails is a curious choice.
"You will need this. Keep it with you and ensure it does not reach the wrong hands."
I hesitate, my hand hovering over the blade. It hums faintly, its energy alive and curious. "What purpose will it serve?"
The Seer tilts their head, the empty sockets of their gaze unreadable. "Even I cannot see all paths clearly. Take it."
The weight of the blade in my palm feels heavier than it should, as if it carries more than its physical mass. Something twists inside me, that incessant need to ask more questions until I know everything. But I hold back, nodding as the blade slips into my sheath.
Rael’s hands move in explanation. “This is Eris, a Seer who left the Aether. They removed their own eyes to see more clearly after a vision led them here.”
“Ah, yes, but they were nothing but a distraction. They kept me from truly seeing what needed to be perceived. I’ve lived this moment hundreds of times,” Eris says, their voice like wind through crystal. “I’ve waited so long, knowing you would come, but not when. What happened to your parents changed everything—the entire fate of the Accord.”
My throat tightens. “What do you mean?”
“The Accord is broken,” they say, each word heavy with meaning. “The artifacts that maintained it were stolen, weakening its ties to the Ephemeral realm, leaving it open for abuse. And abused, someone has. They are actively destabilizing it. The Accord lives by using recycled essence to hold the realms together, but it’s failing. Your mother, and others from the Aether, sacrificed themselves over the years to buy time when the Accord found itself lacking essence from that realm—time you shouldn’t have needed if your father hadn’t died. He was fated to guide you through this when you were of age.”
The blood drains from my face. “How much time do we have?”
“Barely any. You must stop whatever is weakening the balance; then follow the necessary steps to forge a new Accord, using what you were shown in the vision of the first Accord. There won’t be time otherwise.”
Questions flood my mind, but Eris raises a hand. “I cannot tell you more. Those answers would destroy the only path that leads to restoration.”
“Then at least tell me what happens if we’re too late,” I demand. “If the Accord dies?”
Eris’s expression darkens before they utter something I did not wish to hear again. “Chaos.”