32. Elzora
32
ELZORA
“ T his is pointless,” I groan, resting my head back onto the pillow. My dad’s lying in the bed next to me, and he laughs under his breath. “Eirik had to knock me out last time because I couldn’t manage.”
“Then maybe we’ll have to do the same,” he says. “Dreamscaping is a huge ability to master, Elzora, so let’s not beat yourself up over the fact that you’ve not managed to replicate it after one attempt.”
“Sometimes, I hate that I never grew up in this world.”
“I hate it, too,” he offers quietly. “But I’d not change a thing knowing that it’s the reason you get to be here with me today.”
“Let me knock you out, and then I’ll beg my magicae to do the same,” I say, and he laughs but gives me his permission. I don’t even need to say ‘ somnum ’ for my magicae to do its job and for my dad to enter the world of dreams.
“Come on, then, magicae,” I murmur, lying down and bringing my blankets up to my chin. “I need to sleep and find my dad so we can go on an adventure.”
I don’t get a response, not that I was really expecting one.
It’s not like my primordium is a separate entity—it’s me. Unfortunately.
“ Mihi dormiendum est, deinde patrem meum in mundo somniorum invenire debeo ,” I say firmly. My magicae stirs at the command for me to sleep and to then find my dad in the dream world.
I say it over and over, my consciousness growing hazier with repetition. I don’t know how many times it takes before reality dissolves, and I’m no longer in my home—in Necos’s castle.
My eyes fly open, and I’m in a blank environment. It’s white everywhere—not like my soul, but a genuinely blank place. The slight texture on the walls and floor reminds me of a canvas—waiting to be filled with images.
“Well done, lux animula mea ,” my dad says, beaming at me. I turn and shriek, rushing to his arms, hugging him.
“I did it! I did it!”
He laughs and squeezes me tightly before letting go. “You did, well done.”
“I have no idea what to do now, though,” I say, blushing at his raised eyebrows. “I did tell you I was a complete novice at this.”
“Elzora, you’ve managed to not only enter a dreamscape yourself, but you’ve brought a non-dreamwalker along for the journey. You’ve truly amazed me.”
“Would you believe me if I said I had no idea how, and just used intent?”
He smirks. “That’s all you need to use when casting. You’re doing so well.”
“So, now, I need to find the night I was born in your mind?” I ask.
“I think that’s our best starting point. It’s a memory that includes you—even if you were a babe—and it’s one of the two nights that could be referred to.”
“Close your eyes and think of that night,” I say softly. “Think of how you were feeling, of the anxiety, and hopefully joy?—”
“You’re so precious.” His words are a murmur that I’m not sure if I was meant to hear. I blush and let my magicae guide me once more.
I latch onto the memory, pulling on some of Ryes’s magicae to secure the thought in my mind, and will for my magicae to take us to that night.
“ Redde nos, redde nos ,” I chant. Take us back, take us back. But no matter that we have a clear memory and the power to reach it, there’s some sort of barrier around it—each brush of my magicae results in a flashing warning, begging me to stay away.
“What’s wrong?” my dad asks.
“It’s not working. There’s something stopping me getting to that night.”
His face draws into a frown. “I don’t understand. As in, someone else has blocked it?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug, looking down at my hands, before meeting his gaze once more. “I wish I knew more about it, but I don’t. Your soul feels clear, but I don’t… even with Ryes’s borrowed magicae, I don’t think I can access your mind properly to do a scan like he could.”
“We’ll talk to him, then, about this,” my dad says softly. “How about we try the other night? The night my family died.”
“Okay. I hate to, um, ask, but could you… could you think about it again? I connect better to the emotions rather than the, um, the words,” I whisper, feeling terrible.
“I’ve made peace with that night, love. I can do it.” He closes his eyes, and almost immediately, a wave of pain hits me, his aura tinging with blue as the true sadness takes hold on his soul.
I don’t hesitate in channeling my magicae to that night, latching onto the leaking emotions from my dad, but, once more, it comes to a startling stop. It won’t let us get there.
“There’s a block on it,” I say in confusion. “You’re sharing the information with me, but as I try to pull it from your mind, to wield it into fruition… I can’t do it.”
“So, we can’t go back to the night that my family died either.”
I shake my head. “I can’t get you there—not alone. I don’t know why there’s a block in place, but when it happened to me, it was because of Vex. For you…”
“I wouldn’t have asked Vexus to take whatever this is away.”
“How do you know?” I ask thoughtfully.
“Because if it was worth two dead relatives telling us about it—it’s big, whatever this is. I’d never have given up that kind of advantage.”
“Then what do you think the problem is?”
He shakes his head. “I have no idea. Can you try and force your way past the block?”
“What if it hurts?” I wrap my arms around my centre, not sure how comfortable I feel messing with my dad’s mind.
“Then it hurts. But this memory is clearly important. I’ll be fine—just do it.”
“Okay.” I don’t hesitate, and with tears in my eyes, I keep pushing, chanting, “ Redde nos, redde nos .”
My head starts to hurt, my dad grunting in the distance, but I keep pushing forward. My magicae is pushing against this mental block, and we pull more and more of our power forward. My nose is bleeding, my eyes stinging, but I don’t give up.
And then, the scene around us shifts, we’re moving through time, through my dad’s memories. My stomach churns at the rapid colour shifts around us, the blank slate moving and spinning before, finally, it stops.
“We’re here,” my dad says as the room situates. We’re in a darkly lit corridor, and I hear giggles coming from a lit room ahead. I don’t know who is there, but my dad doesn’t hesitate in walking up.
“Stay close,” he says, and I nod. I don’t remind him that we’re in a dream, that we can’t be hurt. It just makes me feel loved knowing that he wants to keep me safe.
He comes to a sudden stop outside the door, and I peer inside, seeing a girl’s bedroom. The walls are pink, the bedspread covered in unicorns, and there’s four girls sitting on the floor in a circle.
There’s fireflies flying around the room as the girls laugh and grin. There are four of them, and two have the same bright blonde hair that I have—that my dads have. The youngest has pure black hair, sleek and long. It’s beautiful.
They’re all beautiful.
“Where are you?” I murmur, and my dad gestures to the door. We enter the room, obviously not drawing any attention, and I see three men, practically identical, standing, entertaining the girls. I don’t know how old they are, but my dad is definitely at least a decade or so younger than he is now—it’s hard to tell with witches since their lifespan is longer than a human.
My dad is in the middle, his dark magicae clear to see, and I think Caedos—my other dad—is on his left side. He’s the one creating the fireflies. But the third brother, my uncle, clearly isn’t doing much of anything.
“He’s a light witch, too,” I say, watching as he tries to copy Caedos.
My dad nods. “I was the oldest, and I took after my dad—your granddad, Velmir.”
“You don’t need to whisper, Elzora. They can’t hear us,” he teases. “I’m here with your dad and Hical. Hical is the third-born and the youngest of my brothers.”
“Was he… was he fated to be my mum’s, too?”
My dad shakes his head. “No. She felt complete with just us. I don’t know who his anima nexum was or how she’s faring.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders, squeezing me to my side. “This isn’t the night of the accident. We’re at least a few months earlier.”
“I don’t understand why we’re here, then,” I say.
“I don’t know. But let’s watch and see.”
“Do it again,” the youngest girl pleads. She’s surely only seven or eight and is clapping her hands excitedly. “Please, Caedy, please!”
“Caedy?” I ask, giggling.
My dad smirks. “The dark-haired girl is the baby and the only time witch my parents had. Next to her, with the pink nose stud, is Ismora. She’s the eldest and is currently the bane of my parent’s lives.”
“Why?” I frown, not sure how the bright, smiling girl could be a bane of anyone’s life. Like Caedos and Hical, my aunt Ismora is a light witch. She’s grinning at the impressive magicae.
“Puberty, magicael defiance, you name it. She’s just pushing bounds and being a genuine pain in the ass,” he says, rubbing his cheeks. “The twins are in the red dress and the blue dress. Noctra is the eldest—she’s the one with green eyes and a dark witch.”
“You’re all primordials,” I mention, looking at the girls.
My dad nods, gesturing around us. “We’re the royal family, lux animula mea . It would be extremely rare for one of us to not be a primordial. We—oh, fuck.”
“What’s happening?” I ask, clutching at his arm as the room erupts into an argument. The three brothers try to calm the girls down, but the youngest daughter is arguing with the twins about something. Her words are fading from my mind as the room starts to distort.
The space seems to blur at the edges, the colours bleeding together as if someone is mixing them on a painting pallet. The arguing voices of my aunts and uncles stretch and deepen, slower and quieter, before fading completely.
“Dad, what’s happening?”
But we’re travelling once more through his memories, flying around as time whizzes past us, and I catch familiar glimpses of his family—well, mine, really—in the walls before we come to another stop.
He holds onto me tightly, not moving as the scene starts to form in front of us. We’re at a funeral. Caedos and my dad stand at the front, on a stage, and the auditorium seems brimming with people. There’s so much sadness, so much pain, that I can feel the remnants of it even now.
I frown, recognising some members of the crowd. Loros is here, the time witch that’s on Etonik’s council thing—Necos’s mentor. My grandma and Mr Downey are near the back. I walk away from my dad, looking around at other familiar faces in the crowd.
Omi and Zirze are here, but there’s no Vexus. I don’t know how long there is between this and Vexus being born… but they’re clearly not criminals just yet. There’s a familiar-looking man near the back, hidden partially from view.
I don’t know him, I don’t even realise how he’s familiar, but the woman at his side seems to look directly at me. Her soul is dark, twisted, and then she lets out a silent scream.
A dark blast of energy explodes into the area, hitting me like a physical wave. My lungs seize, my chest burning, as I’m thrown backwards.
The funeral memory shatters around us, dark shards of black glass swirling in the air, and every time one touches me, I feel a prickling sensation as if it hurts.
We’re once more sent out of this memory, thrown around as my dad’s brain seems to swim in a mixture of dreams and fragmentations. My dad’s grip on my arm tightens as we tumble through the chaos of his mind.
Eventually, we land in another memory, this one in a room I recognise—my dad’s office at the rebel compound.
The only real change is the mass amount of books on his shelves, the rest looks practically identical. My dad doesn’t speak as the scene forms, and I know he’s still thinking about what happened in the previous memory.
“Are you fucking stupid, brother? Did you not hear the same prophecy I did? She’s going to be harmed by a dark witch—by one of you !” The angry voice is one I recognise, but I could never imagine him using that tone of voice, ever.
“You’re a fool, Caed. A blind, ignorant fool,” my memory dad drawls, not caring about the sneer in his words or the biting insult towards his brother. “The prophecy is meant to be ambiguous on purpose. It’s fooling us, trying to push us towards one thing—a falsity.”
Caedos storms towards him, his magicae pulsing up and down his arms, as he glowers at his brother. Anomus’s back is to us, and he looks a little thinner than he is now, but the hair colour is so obviously him.
“You’re trying to argue about the interpretation of this thing? As if that’s what is important in all of this?”
“Of course, it is, brother,” my dad says calmly. Unlike Caedos, he’s keeping calm and has a tight control over his magicae. But then there’s another tinge of darkness, this one pulsing in time with Caedos’s anger, and the blackness spreads through the room, into the landscape, until it consumes the scene.
My stomach drops as we’re wrenched sideways, and we’re pulled down away from the arguing voices.
I don’t understand what’s going on. I don’t think… I don’t think I’m the one in control of what we’re seeing. But the weird thing is that I don’t think my dad is either.
The scene changes again, and, this time, we’re standing on a balcony. I don’t recognise the surroundings, but my dad does as he lets out a soft “wow”, clearly on alert.
“Where are we?” I ask, still reeling from the argument in the previous memory. My dad doesn’t answer; instead, he steps towards the balcony doors, peering inside the glass.
Good thing we can’t be seen because that’s a little creepy.
His face pales, and he turns, shaking his head. “Get us out of here, now!”
“What?”
“Elzora, I'm not playing around. We need to?—”
And then I hear something from the room. My eyes widen, the hair sticking up on the back of my neck, as I hear a loud moan. A high-pitched moan of… lust.
“Let’s go,” I whisper, my cheeks burning, my chest flushed. I don’t know if I’m embarrassed for me, for my dad, for whoever is inside… I just know that this type of mortification could kill someone.
“Ano, please,” I hear a woman beg, and, this time, my magicae responds to me.
I groan and will my magicae to whisk us away, far away, back to reality. I blink, and, suddenly, the surroundings change, and I’m back in my bed. The bedsheets are warm, the air chill, and the room is silent.
That was… that was something. I’m absolutely mortified I overheard whatever that was— whoever that was. I’m half-torn between wanting it to be my mum and being absolutely horrified at it being her, too.
“I don’t understand something,” I say quietly. My words carry in the awkwardness we’re both feeling.
“Please, please , don’t ask me about… about that,” my dad begs.
I burst into giggles, smothering my face into my pillow so that he doesn’t hear them. I don’t think my plan works, though, when he laughs, too. We’re both embarrassed, but I feel shy, not wanting to comment on anything I may have seen or heard.
“I didn’t mean… not about that,” I promise, and I giggle as I hear him let out a sigh of relief. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t the one in control there.”
“No, I didn’t think you were. I wasn’t either. Those were never memories I would’ve pulled upon.” He sighs, tugging the blankets up over him. “I don’t know if we pushed past the mental block or if this was a trap they placed.”
“How could someone have tampered with your mind?” The thought sends a shiver down my spine, a chill seeping into my bones.
“I don’t know, my love, but I’m not impressed by it.”
We fall quiet, each of us in our own thoughts, before I ask something else that was bugging me. “Can I ask something else? It’s about the prophecy.”
“What about it?” he asks curiously.
“We saw that glimpse of it in your memories, and you and dad… Caedos. You argued over the wording with him—you said you didn’t think it was referring to a dark witch.”
“I don’t.”
“That is what I don’t understand,” I say quietly. “There are so many references to darkness—a dark place, a dark poison, darkness’s whim. How could it not be a dark witch?”
“That was your dad’s argument,” he says, moving into a seating position on the bed. He yawns, waving me off when I try to speak, so I sit there, letting him compose himself. “Let’s break it down.”
“From hidden lands the Primordial Queen shall rise, her power blazing through darkened skies.” I share the first line, translating it in my head comes easily now that I know the song—the prophecy.
“Wait—you can… you can read it? You understand it? You can repeat it?” he demands, a volley of questions flung my way.
I rub the back of my neck and nod my head. “Yes.”
“You’re a wonder, my love, truly. Okay, let’s do it a line at a time.” He sounds excited now and sits up properly. “That’s easy—you were hidden away on Earth and came back, ready to take your place as the Queen of Primordials. You’ve got a lot of power, and the skies are dark is likely a metaphor for how toxic the world is right now.”
“Potentially,” I say slowly. “But there’s something more to it—I can feel it. The next line refers to a bond. It would be easy to assume it means the one I share with Eirik—but it’s not.”
“It’s not?” My dad shakes his head. “This prophecy was told nearly two hundred years ago. It’s not an old one, not really, not for a witch, but there’s only been one other oracle before you to try this, and she couldn’t.”
A familiar feeling races down my spine, the air around us shifting as an ancient magicae seems to seep through the room. The temperature warms, and my magicae stirs restlessly. The shadows in the corners deepen as I turn to find the ghost that’s appeared.
There’s a faint green glow in the doorway surrounding an unfamiliar woman. I don’t recognise her magicae, and with her dark skin, I know we’re not related by blood.
Her hair is gorgeous, braided with beads and is tightly wrapped around her head. Her bright green eyes are beautiful, and it’s clear that she’s an earth witch.
There’s something about her, something that links us, I can feel it. I just don’t understand it.
“The time has come to admit the lie that beheld me,” she says, her words are sharp with knowledge, an otherworldly kind of presence.
“You lied?” I ask, sitting up on the bed. She nods. “Who are you? I don’t understand why you’re here— how you’re here.”
Sure, I see the dead pretty often when I’m not encased behind wards. Necos’s place is one that’s pretty good at keeping the ghosts out. The only ones who can get past are the ones with a relation to me.
“Or ones who are like you.” She touches her forehead, and her skin glows green, runes branded all over her body. If it weren’t for the fact that they were green rather than gold, I’d think she was a soul witch.
“Who are you?” I repeat.
“My name is Mylath, young oracle. Like you, I’m blessed with visions of the future, the past, and everything in between. We’re different to other witches, connected to this Earth, to our core, in ways that others could never fathom.”
“You’re an earth witch, but… how do you have those runes?”
“Elzora, my love, who are you talking to?” my dad demands. I can hear the urgency in his tone, feel his panicked shadows clawing at the edges of the room as they hunt down the intruder.
But I refuse to break away from Mylath, knowing that she’ll disappear right as she goes to tell me something important. It’s how they all operate.
“That will come clear soon, young one. We’re going to meet again—sooner than you think,” she says. “But, for now, you need to know something about this prophecy.”
“What do I need to know?” I whisper, closing my eyes as fear prickles at the edges of my skull. I can feel her energies coming closer, feel the powerful presence in my mind.
“I didn’t share the entire thing with the world. Not when I knew that, in doing so, you’d never survive to have a fighting chance against this evil.”
I frown. “Why the last part? What was so important you had to hide it?”
“Let me touch you, young oracle, and I’ll share it with you as is true.”
I take a deep breath, not sure if I can really trust this random ghost, but, ultimately, I have no choice. “Yes. Share it with me please.”
The moment her forefinger touches my forehead, I scream out in agony, a dark vision pouring through my brain. Necos’s hourglass floats around my mind, the sand inside it a glowing silver in the top half, but as they pass through the centre and drop to the other side, they’re black.
It seems toxic, dangerous.
And then I hear the familiar song. I let the words wash over me as more images appear. Me, a crown, the mirror I watched myself in from the vault, shadows, a man who looks like Zohar, and long black hair.
When dark souls rise, corruption starts to feed,
The words taste like ash in my mouth as a vision of a silver soul is consumed by shadows.
The youngest’s power makes the eldest bleed.
My hand instinctively touches at my throat, the hair on my arms sticking up.
Through twisted glass, her mind begins to fold ? —
My mind? The mirror from the vault flashes again, an image of me, from the night of the attack. Am I… is my mind corrupting? Failing?
What’s freely given cannot be controlled.
The final line echoes with shard finality, and I feel the weight of dread settle into my bones.
Over and over, the prophecy speaks, that final four-line sonnet getting louder and louder each time.
“Elzora!” A voice roars, cutting through the connection. As the pain fades, I know without a doubt that Mylath has gone.
My dad’s panicked face enters my gaze, his hands shaking me. “What happened? Who the fuck were you talking to?”
“I… let go, please,” I stutter, my heart starting to calm down now that we’re no longer in pain and no longer suffering. “Do you, um… do you know the name of the witch who first heard this prophecy?”
He frowns. “Who were you talking to, Elzora? Someone who claims to have heard it?”
“Please, Dad, just tell me.”
He rubs at his face, pulling his magicae back into himself. “Mylath. She was a powerful witch with one of the strongest connections to the Earth I’ve ever known. She was an oracle, or at least, she claimed to be, and on my parent’s wedding day, she was a guest.”
“And she gave the prophecy to them as a wedding present,” I whisper, somehow just knowing that this is the truth. He clenches his jaw and nods. “Did people suspect this was you?”
He shakes my head. “It so clearly refers to The Primordial Queen, love. The prophecy was shared to only a select few, but word spread, and all anyone knew was that it foretold a bond between a royal primordial daughter and an elemental son.”
“So, none of your sisters?”
He sighs. “They all thought it might be them, but Mylath went into hiding, lost to the world, and nobody could prove it. My family was murdered, and that was that. It was so clearly not any of my sisters, and the world seemed to move on.
“Until your mum announced her pregnancy—there’s only six months or so between you and Eirik, and your mum’s shared some of their pregnancy together. People knew, they hoped, they wondered.”
“Mylath came to me, I think. She’s a dark-skinned woman, with beautiful hair, and a strong earth affinity,” I say quietly. “And she shared a final sonnet with me, something she needed to keep so that I didn’t die before it could come true.”
My dad snarls under his breath. “What is it?”
“When dark souls rise, corruption starts to feed, the youngest’s power makes the eldest bleed,” I say. My words are calm but haunting. “Through twisted glass, her mind begins to fold, what’s freely given cannot be controlled.”
My dad’s face scrunches up in the same confused look that I think I’m mirroring. “That makes no sense. You’re our only child—so, sure, you’re the eldest… but there’s no youngest that could hurt you or cause you to bleed.”
“Could… could mum dying be done to prevent this? Could someone have…” I trail off, biting my lip as tears fill my eyes at the thought.
“I don’t…” My dad shakes his head, fury clinging to his soul, darkening the bright spots faster than any maliciousness I’ve ever seen. “I think I need some time alone after that, lux animula mea . I want to consider what she shared and think about how we move forward.”
“Okay.”
“You’re alone here, but?—”
“I’m not alone,” I say, shaking my hands. I press on the brand on my wrist, the beautiful dragon that marks my bond with King. He comes flying through the house and lands on my bed within a few seconds. “King’s here.”
“I’d feel safer if you came to the compound.”
“Nobody can get in here, Dad, we’re safe. I’ll set alarms on the house and keep myself in my room. But… I think I need to be alone, too.”
“The curse of having a daughter who takes after me,” he says, trying to tease and inject himself with some enthusiasm. But it falls flat. “I’m going to let the boys know.”
“Aren’t they on assignment? Please don’t disturb them.”
My dad laughs and shakes his head. “No, love, they’re doing an initiation of sorts. I talked it over with Etrix, Necos, and Vexus after… well, after the body swapping. They’re all at the compound, hopefully, learning how to rely on each other.”
“That’s sweet,” I murmur. King crawls towards me, lying on my lap. He doesn’t put much weight on me, and I brush a kiss to his head.
“I look after Queen Elzora.”
“You will, thank you, King,” I reply, sniffling. His presence is comforting, but I can’t help wondering if he senses the darkness that seems to be gathering around us—around me.
My dad leans over and presses a kiss to my forehead.
“I’ll let myself out, and I’ll speak to you tomorrow.” With another kiss, he disappears in a cloud of smoke, and I lay down on the bed, overwhelmed with everything I saw.
There was a whole family out there—aunts, an uncle, a legacy of love that is now reduced to memories and ghosts. Neither of which I can see and access for myself.
These people who should’ve watched me grow up, who should’ve been there for all the milestones, for all of their milestones… they’re gone, lost to the otherworld, and we don’t truly understand why.
I wonder… are their deaths perhaps the first dark thread that started this prophecy. It shouldn’t feel so right to think this, to know this.
But I hope the feeling in my bones that whispers these deaths were just the beginning—that whatever killed them isn’t finished with my family yet—is just my anxiety speaking and not the oracle that seems to know too much.