Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
LYRA
“You’re wearing your new dress.”
I startle at the proximity of Casimir’s voice, whirling around to find him no more than an arm’s length away from me.
After his sudden outburst this afternoon—can I actually call it that when his anger was so contained?
—an uneasy feeling tips the comfort I’ve grown to have around him lately back into that cautionary assessment.
“I am.”
“It suits you.”
My eyes narrow on him. “Thanks.” I reach for an ice necklace that isn’t there, still not entirely rid of my habit of reaching for it in moments of discomfort.
Casimir tilts his head, eyes soft yet inquisitive. “What is it you are always reaching for when you’re uneasy?”
Truthfully, I’m surprised he waited so long to ask. I know he must have noticed all the other times. “It was a necklace given to me by someone as a token of good luck during Bathara’s entrance exams.”
“What happened to it?”
I eye him pointedly. “Now who’s the chatty one?”
He shrugs, the gesture so much looser than his usual movements. “Rashtah puts me in a good mood. It reminds me of the one good thing I was able to preserve and protect within my existence.”
“So it would seem.” I sigh. “I burnt the necklace to dust when I lost control of my magic.”
He grows quiet, and the air shifts as it suddenly bears three times its weight.
“I am sorry, Lyra,” he murmurs eventually.
“I fear I have not yet said those words to you. As I have grown to know you better, after the decision you made to willingly help search for a cure for my family, well… suffice it to say I am both ashamed and regretful for the barbaric methods I used to achieve my objectives.”
“People only listen when something irreparable has been lost, right? Only stop cutting when it bleeds?”
He studies me, tucking a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. “Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps somehow, despite all the many odds, you make me want to believe things can truly be different.”
My throat tightens while my heart picks up in my chest, fluttering like the wings of a tiny bird. Though where those wings intend to take me, I have no idea—my heart still feels anchored elsewhere.
When he pulls back his hand, a glint of something bright catches my eye. Silver buttons. I finally scan Casimir’s attire. As expected, he is dressed pristinely.
It makes me laugh.
“What?” he asks, an indent forming between his eyes.
“Nothing,” I answer through my incessant giggling, shaking my head.
“You’re laughing at me.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
I sigh, which makes me laugh harder. “Okay, yes I am.”
He folds his arms over his chest. “Why?”
“It’s because you are so, ‘I hate humanity’, yet are clearly obsessed with fashion. I just find those traits to be…at odds with one another.” I shrug. “The contrast is funny.”
He watches me as though he is genuinely considering what I’ve just said. Eventually, he frowns. “Your impression of me is terrible.”
“Oh, no it is not,” I counter. “That is exactly what you sound like.”
His frown deepens. “That’s terrible.”
“Tell me about it. Now you see why I was so keen on escaping you for so long.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I stiffen, fearing I might have taken the teasing too far. But Casimir’s mouth hooks up into a small smile as he drops his eyes and shakes his head.
He laughs quietly, and the sound makes my own smile broaden.
“Yes, if I sound like that, I can see why indeed.” He leans forward, reminding me of the lack of space between us this whole time.
“Between you and me, though,” he whispers to the top of my ear, “I am glad you chose to stay.” Casimir draws back, and his amber eyes are the softest I have ever seen them be.
They are bright as well, different in the way of their usual peculiar glow.
It’s like life has slowly leaked back into them.
Gods, it makes him look like a different creature entirely.
Yet the look only lasts a moment as a radiant blue light flickers above our heads.
It’s dome-shaped and bright, covering the entirety of the night sky, bulging out far past the tree line.
I’ve never noticed it before—never even realized it existed.
Which means it must be the wards Casimir and Neilina have been telling me about.
The blue-light makes a zapping sound, blinking in and out of existence. Until it just stops, half the light remaining near the horizon while the ceiling of the dome has entirely disappeared.
Casimir’s eyes harden. “Protect yourself,” he commands, his voice steel. “I’ve never seen the top of the wards disappear before, and it won’t take long before some people’s madness starts slipping into place.”
He scans the scene, gritting his teeth. Most everyone has stopped, seeming too stunned or cautious to even move. Hell, some of them don’t even look like they’re breathing.
“I need to go to the temple to fix this.” Casimir turns to me. “Are you comfortable staying and making sure they do not harm themselves?”
I nod. “I can handle things until you get back.”
“You won’t fight them?” His gaze is filled with so much worry. So much conflict.
It makes my heart squeeze to see just how much he truly cares for them.
“No,” I promise. “If it comes to it, I will only defend myself. Not attack.”
“Let’s hope it does not come to that.” He throws out his hand, and a blue and white portal opens. He steps through, glancing back at me. “I will be as quick as I can.”
“Good luck.”
He watches me a moment longer, his eyes lined with concentration as he studies me. Until he wordlessly steps through the portal and disappears, the swirling colors disappearing with him.
I reset my focus on all the people around me. I can’t find Neilina. But I do see plenty of other faces I now recognize. Terror swims in their eyes.
The first to succumb is the older man from the tavern, Jax. His chin jerks to me, and he cocks his head at an unnatural angle. He grins a child’s grin, skipping over as he sings, “Different you see. Different from me. A magic whose power the gods’ eyes can see.” He stops just short of reaching me.
“Jax,” I warn, my voice low and steady. Slowly, I lift my palms, ready to deflect any strikes of magic should I need to. “Try to stay with me. Your Master is returning the wards to their full strength.” Though how he intends to do that, I haven’t the slightest idea.
“Master?” he croons. “You are Master’s key. Our answer to the locked door. And I mustn’t hurt the key.”
“Jax,” I try again, ignoring the small pang in my chest when hearing those words once more. “What would Master tell you right now?”
This makes him pause as he actually considers the question. Through his thin sweater, I see a green glow, dim at first, but growing brighter. The air around us plunges into a bone-chilling cold. Voices hiss in the air, and they make every hair on my arm stand on end. I recognize them.
Erhé akta maht. Erhé akta maht. Erhé akta maht.
Hate take harm. Hate take harm. Hate take harm.
Jax’s eyes glaze over, and his fingertips stretch out in front of him. “Blood is blood, the world is cruel. Risings go up, because Solayans are fools.” His breathing turns hiccuped, and an odd, mud-like substance falls from his fingertips.
What is his wielder’s mark? What magic of his has been corrupted?
I pull on a stream of water, washing the strange substance away from the ground before it can reach my feet.
Jax pulls at more. “Live. Live. I just want to live. Die. Die. That’s all they give.” The substance pours more ferociously from his fingers, and I soon realize that it is rotting the ground beneath his feet.
Noted. Definitely don’t let the creepy mud touch me.
A girl, Claya, I believe her name is, steps forward, muttering incoherent words under her breath. Then another girl steps forward, joined by another man. Madness lives in all their eyes. The hisses in the air grow louder.
Erhé akta maht. Erhé akta maht. Erhé akta maht.
Hate take harm. Hate take harm. Hate take harm.
My vision throbs. My feet sway. The wielder’s mark on my back begins to burn. Yet I don’t lose my focus.
Strange warped lights begin to materialize from their skin. As more and more slip, the ramblings begin to sound like a hypnotic chant of sorts, too mumbled and frenzied for the words to be intelligible, but loud enough to sound like buzzing hums.
One by one they raise their hands, and it feels like all I can do is shield myself with a ball of wind.
I stretch out my arms and guide my hands in a swooping motion, calling for wind magic and thanking whatever deity is around at this point when it answers.
Strikes of magic barrel into the cocoon of wind.
I can see all the colors ricochet off the shell, some intermixing and twirling alongside the gusts of air.
It’s like streaks of color in a storm.
I drop the shield and reassess. There is, well…
More madness. More corrupted magic. And I have less ideas.
Great.
Where the hell is Casimir?
A ball of inverted flames soars toward my head. It is quickly doused by a lancing strike of water that is…wrong. Stiff where it should be fluid. Tacky where it should be wet. I whip my eyes over my shoulder and see Neilina. Her chest is heaving, eyes wide and calculating.
She has yet to succumb to the madness, thank the Mother.
We exchange wary glances as the air electrifies with magic, coated by an icy wrongness. The hysteric chantings grow louder, corrupted marks brightening. Until everyone just goes…silent.
It is an eerie stillness that sends every warning inside me flaring.
All the wielders lost to the madness crane their necks back, tipping their head to the stars, and they scream. It is blood-curdling and terrifyingly otherworldly. It is the sound of Merikh’s realm given form. The sounds of terror and agony woven together.
I slap my hands over my ears to muffle the pitchy screech.
From the corner of my eye, I see Neilina do the same.
Just when I am convinced the ear-splitting screams will never end, the blue light flickers once more.
Until it fully merges together, reforming the entirety of the dome shape.
And then it fades, blending into the star-flecked charcoal sky and the lines of trees once more.
A portal opens, and Casimir appears seconds later.
He is just in time to take the brunt of a barrage of corrupted magics as they fuse together and launch toward me. Casimir barely seems to blink as he erects a wall of solid stone from the ground. It groans and quakes, but it does not give. Not until Casimir drops it.
“Brothers, sisters,” he declares, voice strong and booming over everyone. “Remember yourselves, as your Master wishes it.”
It takes a moment, but it seems the wards’ protective qualities kick in, and those who slipped regain themselves, blinking furiously as their eyes refocus and their lips fall into a frown.
Casimir turns around, looking haggard. A small line of blood falls from his left nostril.
Yet he either doesn’t notice or chooses not to care, letting it run freely down the slope of his skin until it kisses his lips.
He holds me captive in the intensity of his gaze. Like a caged beast almost broken free.
“We’re running out of time.”