Chapter 51 Claeg
The fool laid in my arms, my heart pounding so hard I felt it everywhere. He hadn't shifted, and now it was too late. Consciousness had left him. Only magic could save him.
“Take him back to the De Vita!” Rohit trembled above us, shaking his head in disbelief.
“There is nobody left there who can heal him. Odon is dead,” Ercan said softly, sitting back on his heels.
I screamed in frustration. “Help him!” I shouted helplessly at my father. He growled, ripping Stas’ tunic into shreds and binding it around his shoulder—a last-ditch attempt to close up the gaping hole more. His other wounds were already smothered in thick salves. Whatever he had done seemed to have stopped the blood flow, but how long could he last like this? Panic swelled in my belly. I hated myself vehemently for the lack of knowledge, the weakness.
After a few minutes, Father fell back onto his heels and let out a shaky breath.
“He needs Thyia. We have to go back to De Vita,” Rohit said, pacing in small circles beside us. He ran his hands through his blood-red hair.
“Thyia can't do anything for him that I haven't with the fixation spell and salves,” my father replied, studying me closely, observing the way I clung to Anastasius like he was my lifeline. I didn't even care. The Ruptor screamed for me to protect his Circle.
Rohit hissed, muscles tensing, but he curtly nodded. “What will they do?” Rohit asked, not a hint of fear in his voice—none of the fear that I felt. What if they didn’t see that he was the key to peace, the ultimate power and insisted I complete his Circle?
“Clotho will hate you. She won’t admit when she needs to change,” I started with a shrug. “But she isn’t Janardan. Thana will be more reasonable.” I hope, I added mentally, but he didn’t need to hear my doubts. “I have information she wants,” I added quietly. Rohit sneered.
“You aren’t a traitor,” Ercan finally said, turning toward me. His violet eyes were soft. “You are healing, growing. They can, too. They just need our help. I know it.” I gave him an unconvincing smile. “Come. We have a witch to find.” He held out his hand, and I glanced at the scars on his palms. What kind of draconis could survive such torment and continue to smile, laugh, and live? It took someone of incredible strength to get back up after falling, and my father had gotten up over and over. He knew better than me with this. So I took his hand.
Ercan's magic brought us to the entrance of the Janardan’s Heart stronghold. The door was open, Sivert barring the entrance. My heart fell upon seeing my ex-lover. Would he listen to me after our unpleasant separation? He startled upon us materializing before him before quickly taking on a defensive pose. Right. Thana must not have told him the truth of my broken Circles.
I growled in frustration. There wasn't time for this. That wasn't unexpected, though. In fact, nothing seemed to have changed while I was gone. Only I had changed. I held Anastasius in my arms, not caring who saw us. I wouldn't let Rohit or even Ercan take him from me. He was mine. We just needed the witch. And they had to be here. De Vita hadn’t found the witch in the Strip. My gut told me there was a reason. If the witch wasn’t here, Anastasius would die.
I prayed my theory was right.
“I demand to speak with Thana!” I called out, stepping in front of Ercan and Rohit. Their presence wouldn't be received well, but I hoped everyone’s focus would be on me and my prince until he was stable. Sivert blinked at me in shock. “The Janardan!” I urged, my heart racing.
He took a step forward, drawing his blade. “You aren't welcome here, Ruptor,” he sneered.
“You think you know the full story? You think you know the Janardan more than I, her Ruptor? You know nothing,” I spat, my voice low and deadly. “Now bring me to our Janardan and I will forgive this misunderstanding.” I jerked my head at him, indicating to open the door. His narrowed eyes wandered to Rohit and Ercan. He motioned toward the men behind me.
“You may come, but they may not,” he said with a look of disgust.
“They aren't leaving the De Vita prince,” I said, and to reiterate my point Rohit snarled, stepping forward. My respect for him surged. It took a strong Circle to stand up to an enemy on their own land. At least we were on the same side regarding this—both of us would do anything to protect the prince.
“They come with me,” I stated simply. Rohit shifted, placing a hand on his weapon. Sivert noted the movement and tensed.
“You think I'm a fool? I'm not escorting two traitors and two De Vita,” he spat, “to my Janardan.” His hand was firmly on the pommel of his sword now. Ercan whispered something to Rohit, likely telling him to stand down, as the doors opened, revealing Clotho.
Her eyes found mine and widened. “You've returned!” she shrieked with surprise.
“We have come looking for a witch we believe may be here,” I answered, getting right to business. Her eyes went to the man in my arms before jerking towards Rohit. Upon seeing our father, she sneered.
“Please, Clotho, I shall explain everything, but he needs healing now,” I begged, unable to keep the fear from my voice. Her eyes snapped back to mine. They were livid, but she slowly nodded.
“I shall bring you to Thana,” she answered thoughtfully. “But they must disarm here.” She jerked her head behind me.
“Of course,” I replied. Rohit growled but did as she instructed, laying down his arms. Sivert quickly collected the weapons as Clotho spun on her heel, expecting us to follow. She brought us down into the depths of the castle. I immediately knew where we were going. The room where my Circles were broken. My heart pounded with dread. The room was exactly as I remembered it, except now there was a smattering of chairs surrounding the metal table I had been strapped to. The only light came from a dwindling fire, unlike the raging inferno from last time I was here. I shivered at the memory. No window. There were no fancy decorations here, unlike in the De Vita. Here, everything was simple, made for efficiency.
“Wait here,” Clotho ordered, leaving us with Sivert.
I strode up to the empty table and gently laid Anastasius upon it, even though the action tore at my heart. I hated it, but I suspected that was Clotho’s intention. She wanted me disarmed, weakened. I wouldn't let her. Anastasius’ skin reflected bone white. His respirations were shallow and rapid. Ercan placed his fingers against Stas’ neck and mumbled something to himself.
Rohit began pacing the room while Ercan slumped into the corner as if wishing to make himself invisible. Sivert went from glaring at Ercan to me and back, as if unsure who he hated more. I remained by my prince’s side, holding his cool hand. My eyes were attached to his chest, ensuring he continued to take in air. What would I do if he stopped? I was so useless. My world was crashing around me, and I could do nothing but hope others could fix it. The feeling was foreign to me. I hated it.
It felt like forever before the door reopened. Each breath stretched an eternity, and I prayed it wouldn't be his last. Finally, Thana entered with Clotho. I fell to my knees with Ercan, still refusing to release Anastasius’ hand. Rohit jeered but reluctantly got to his knees, setting aside his pride.
“Rise, Claeg,” Thana said. The sound of my given name startled me. I stood but kept my eyes on Anastasius. His breathing had become irregular at some point, the Ruptor screaming for me to protect him while he was weak. “Now tell me why you have brought our enemies into our home,” Thana said, her tone hinting at her curiosity. I swallowed. Curiosity was good. At least she wasn't outright refusing to hear me out.
“Janardan, I beg you to grant me use of your witch.” I didn't mince words: if the witch was here, she would know whom I meant. It was a blessing from the gods my voice didn't shake. She hummed, neither denying nor confirming they had the witch.
“And what would you have them do?” she asked.
Anastasius’ jagged lips were discolored now, and a layer of sweat glinted in the evening light. I turned to face Thana, my insides twisting with nerves. Her eyes gave nothing away as she watched me. “I need their magic to heal him, Janardan,” I answered. She pursed her lips, her eyes flicking to the man my heart belonged to.
“And what shall I get in return?”
“Anything,” I answered immediately. My Janardan’s eyes widened with surprise, and Clotho glared from behind her.
“Grandmother, you cannot seriously be considering this! It goes against everything we are!”
“Hush, heir,” Thana scolded, making Clotho gape.
“He is De Vita,” Clotho protested. My heart skipped a beat, and Rohit sucked in a breath.
“Exactly. Using the energy to heal him doesn't go against his ways, now does it? Besides, the prince is of more use to me alive than dead. Now hurry: go and get the fledgling,” Thana instructed. Fledgling? I frowned. I wanted a witch, not a child. Clotho flushed, hands clenched into fists. She looked like she wanted to fight more, but she held her tongue and left to carry out our Janardan’s orders.
“We have much to discuss, Ruptor. I will grant you your wish in return for your story.” She eyed Ercan and Rohit and turned towards Sivert. “See to it that our guests are given appropriate accommodations. When the prince is healed, bring Claeg to my chambers. Oh, and take their crystals. I would hate for them to think they could use their magic against us.” I balked at her, surprised to have the suspicion that they had magic confirmed. How long had they known? With that, she left and my ex-lover prowled forward, grasping the crystals hanging around Anastasius’ neck and the rings on Ercan and Rohit’s fingers. My attention returned to the prince. He was so cold; the only sign of his life was the occasional breath shuddering through his chest.
Moments lasted another eternity before Clotho ushered in a woman who was hardly more than a girl. She wore weapons piled on weapons. Her honeyed hair was twisted in thick braids. A golden crystal hung around her neck against pale skin. There was a hardness in her angry green eyes. They had seen horrible things. I knew because I had the same anger in mine. There was no doubt that she was the witch. She had more power in her than just the magic, whether she knew it or not, I didn’t know, but the Ruptor within me recognized its likeness. I frowned, the pull confusing me.
“This is the man you wish to have healed?” she asked. Her voice was laden with a thick accent, but the way she spoke was clear enough. If the situation had been different, I would have bombarded her with questions of the other world. The one across the sea. Hopefully, there would be an opportunity in the future. I knew Anastasius would love to speak with her again.
I nodded, silently praying that she would agree to help. There was no guarantee she would just because she was told to. This woman was foreign, unpredictable. My heart raced as she took in Anastasius' dying body.
“I will help you for a favor,” she said, and immediately I agreed again. Damn the consequences. “From each of you,” she added, looking from me to Ercan and Rohit, who had stopped pacing the room to watch her every move. The two of them quickly nodded, making me sigh in relief. Anastasius would survive.
She immediately went to work, ripping apart the bandages to expose his mangled and scarred flesh. She examined the wounds quickly. Her hands danced in that way I had seen Anastasius’ move when he was calling upon the magic. She uttered words that I didn't understand, but the effect was instantaneous. His skin regained some color, and the fixated blood began to congeal. His breathing slowed. As the magic flowed from her, my heart rate began to slow, and I found I could take a deep breath. He was going to be okay.
After a few minutes, Anastasius stirred, his breathing becoming faster again and making me frown. A whimper escaped his lips. Worry slammed back into me, the sound so foreign from the prince. “What is—” I didn't get to finish the sentence before the whimpers escalated into agonized wails.