10. Reality Ruined My Vision
LUCIAN
In the year 5AA (After Arcane), Soma declared forbiddance pertaining to the creation of new automatic weapons powered by the orphia’s life force. They said it was to preserve the peace they’d fostered since the war. While Viridis, Serpencia, and Verena were magically sworn to oath, there are no records that state Lorucille and Soma ever were.
— AFTER ARCANES (UNPUBLISHED)
It takes Calista only three days to barge into my room, screaming, “I could kill you!”
“I don’t believe that’s a new sentiment,” I remark.
She pushes up onto her tippy toes so that she can grip the collar of my shirt. I glance at her hands. I knew I could count on her to find the information.
“Would you release me?” I say kindly, and she lets go of my shirt with an obnoxious sigh and an exaggerated motion of her hands. “What did you find?” I ask.
Her scowl grows deeper than I’ve ever seen, more sullen than the day we found out we were to be wed. “You know what I found!” she seethes, taking a step closer. “Weapons, Lucian. I found weapons.”
This is more than I anticipated. When one refers to “weapons” in this manner, they do not mean swords or bows. They mean weapons, automatic devices with the highest of intelligence in their lands—the magic of the universe embedded into something without a soul and with one goal: to cause destruction.
If Lorucille is still crafting, it could mean one thing: they were planning on betraying the Littaline Compact that deems Soma and them allies. The only kingdom they have the desire to fight—the only creatures they could take anything more from—are the Lucents.
I can only take this one step at a time. While the discovery of a weapon is a grand one, I’m more worried about Desdemona and her mother’s ties to the Arcanes.
“What are the coordinates?” I pray that she will not make this difficult.
“You said we would get our freedom!” she exclaims in what I’m sure is as hushed a tone as she can manage beneath her anger. Her finger raises at me in an accusatory manner. “This could be a death sentence. You could start a war. My family could be ripped from the throne!”
“What do you think is going to happen if Elysia starts making weapons again?” I ask, as if this is what I truly care about. “What kind of a war will we have on our hands then?”
“You’re gonna be the one to start it!” she yells, too loudly. Anyone in the halls with enhanced hearing could’ve heard her.
I reciprocate her angry gaze and say, “It’s already begun. You weren’t there in Soma, but your brother was. Viridis and Serpencia are fighting again. Lorucille and Soma are still at odds over the power of it all. It won’t be long until the fighting begins, and what do you think is going to happen if one of the worlds has a super-powered machine of destruction?” I pause, weighing my options quickly, waiting for some sort of insight into what Calista will say next. I get none.
“I won’t tell Lusia or Labyrinth.” I never planned on it. “My reasoning for requiring the location is not to doom Lorucille. I simply want to know the truth so I can prepare myself.”
Calista sneers at me, and her eyes twitch. “Always thinking about yourself. I see. You never meant to get us out of the marriage!”
“You know I don’t want to marry you any more than Lilac wants to marry Kai. If there is ever a chance of salvation, I will take it.”
“This isn’t salvation!” she yells.
“Neither is destroying the universe. This is bigger than us, bigger than a forced marriage and forced worldly alliances. This is the possibility of universal genocide. Do you want that on your conscience if you happen to be lucky enough to survive what will become inevitable if you keep wasting our time?” Calista glares at me for much too long. I soften my face, unclench my jaw, and say, “Please, tell me the location of the headquarters.”
She exhales, her shoulders dropping, and I know that she is about the give in.
“The mountain region of the welders’ woods. Get me a map and I’ll show you where.”
We do just that.
After Calista has shown me where to find the facility—and before I go to Azaire—I make my way to the lunar lake where I am to meet Desdemona. Lilac intercepts me on my way there.
“What are you doing Lucy?” she asks me immediately.
“Training. Are you alright?”
“You’re not doing anything stupid, are you?” Lilac looks down while her eyes stay trained on me. The same eyes as Lusia, only warmer. “I saw… something. I worry that what you’re doing won’t end well.”
Lilac gets visions as I do, though they’re not as strong and not as vivid. When my visions are more than that of a small future insight, I have to paint them. Lusia brought me the best painter in the kingdom as a gift when I was a child. She forced me to learn to paint as the painter would. Then she killed her.
That is not the point. The point is that whatever Lilac saw is not likely as vivid as one of my own prophetic visions. Which is good, because it would be too dangerous for her to know what I’m going to do today.
“I’ll be careful, Li. Promise.”
“It was a really bad feeling.” She grabs my hand, something she only does when it’s urgent. “The same as the way you described what Mother did when you were younger.”
I do not know what this could mean. She and Azaire are the only two who know of what I had to watch. Only Azaire knows of what I had to endure, as he tends to when it comes to details regarding Lusia. Yet, I do not know how my ploy could bring about such a feeling.
“It was a vision?” I ask, and Lilac nods. “Were you alright in the vision?”
“I didn’t see myself, but yes, I was fine,” she says hesitantly.
“And Azaire? Was he alright?”
“Yes, yes, no one was hurt from what I saw.” She frowns. “It’s not that though, Lucy. It was… I don’t know how to explain what it was.”
I say again, “I’ll be careful.”
So long as Lilac and Azaire are safe, there’s not much I wouldn’t do for answers.
“It’s important?” she asks.
“Greatly.”
Lilac pulls her dark hair back behind her ears. “If you need anything, any help, come to me. Promise?”
“I promise,” I tell her.
“And tell me what it is when you’ve finished?”
“Promise.”
* * *
Desdemona is waiting by the time I make it to the lake. This is our second time working together, and since the last, I have racked my mind more than I’d like to admit trying to find the answer as to why her magic feels so potent. Specifically when I touched her.
It was electrifying.
This, plus Lusia’s intrigue in her and her intriguing ability to step through projections, has made her my life’s most profound enigma. However, I have not deluded myself into believing that I won’t have to turn her into Lusia when she asks again. I only have to solve the puzzle before Lusia gets her.
“Would you like to open a portal to the shore?” I ask.
Her eyes grow wide and her body goes rigid for a moment. If I had blinked, I would’ve missed it, because her straining disappears as quickly as it came.
Desdemona says, “What about the wards? Won’t the headmistress find out?”
“Don’t worry about Cynthia,” I say as I extend my hand to the lake.
She leans over the water, holding out her hand in a gesture I have never seen before. Her fingers curl into her palm while her thumb sticks out. The determination on her face, coupled with the odd placement of her fingers, has me not wanting to look away.
I see this image, for a moment, as a painting. As if I’m glimpsing the future instead of standing in it.
Then the water swirls into itself before it shows the coast and I can no longer watch her.
“Ladies first,” I say.
Desdemona scoffs. “So you’re a gentleman now?”
“Always was.”
“I’d say agree to disagree, but self-awareness is one of the things I don’t think you lack.” She looks over her shoulder at me, cheeks reddening. “My inadequacy.”
I can tell that there’s no remorse in her beyond that of fear. It reminds me of my childhood, when I’d say something off-putting and immediately expect retribution.
I’m not sure what’s more annoying—that she looks at me the way I used to look at Lusia, or that she thinks she knows me enough to do so.
“No, no,” I smile, choosing to play along, “tell me, what is it I lack?”
She tucks her chin to her chest and says much more shyly than I would’ve expected from someone so headstrong, “Gentlemanliness, maybe?”
“How so?”
“You almost killed me.”
“Did not,” I say casually.
“Did so,” she says vehemently.
I hold up my open palm and shadows sprout like flowers. “I’m in complete control, darling.”
“Do you call me darling to distract from your lack of gentlemanliness, or is it just what you call all the women in your life?”
“Only the powerful ones.” She huffs, and I find the ease with which it takes to annoy her to be a pleasantry. If I can get a rise out of her so easily then I’ll be able to get fire out of her as well. “I’ve heard life expectancy doubles when you don’t piss off Fire Folk.”
“Then maybe you should stop calling me darling.” Her eyes stay on mine and her lips curve into a smile as she jumps through the portal, leaving me thinking I’ve met my match in her.
Who happens to be a temperamental little thing.
I never would’ve expected her to be so amusing, based upon our first meeting where she was simply a liar. But she’s proved me wrong. I almost enjoy talking to her. Which is a pity, because I will be forced to doom her.
The only thing I need before I do that is to get to the void. If she’s as sore with magic as she’s shown herself to be—which is considerably doubtful, considering the liar she is and the power she exudes—then I will need to sharpen her potential so I can use it for myself.
But I can have a little fun before it comes to that.
On the coast now, I face Desdemona and she asks, “What now?”
“Start a fire.”
Desdemona looks at the tree that was her target last time. “Right,” she says without looking at me.
My eyes haven’t parted from her once. I can’t help the feeling that if they do, I will miss something important. As if the answer to my question will be written on her face. Is this a show, or is she truly incapable of starting a measly fire?
“Yes, you can thank your difficulties to your humble upbringing in Utul,” I say, though I don’t believe it. No one from Utul would be so ill-mannered.
“Yes, Aibek, thank you for reminding me of my childhood.” Ill-mannered indeed. An effortless liar as well.
Only, she clenches her left hand.
“Anytime, Marquees.”
She looks at me with a frown before her eyes settle back on the tree.
I give her a few minutes before I ask, “Do you want help?”
“No,” she says.
“I can do?—”
“I said no!” Her head drops into her hands with a groan.
“Is everything alright?”
“Yes,” Desdemona sighs. “Yes.” She looks over her shoulder, out past the sea. “Is it windy, do you think?”
“Faintly, I suppose.”
“Right, well,” she scratches her ear, “I don’t think fires and wind go together well. Maybe we could revisit this?”
“I’m not convinced that will be a problem.”
What if Lusia gets to her before I can? Desdemona is the path to revenge. I have to take it before I lose it.
“Maybe it’s for the better,” she finally answers.
“And your mother?”
Her eyebrows knit together. “What?”
“Do you think that being weak will bode better for your mother?”
Desdemona stomps in my direction. “You don’t know anything about?—”
“I know she’s somewhere you aren’t able to get to. That even if you do find where there’s nothing you can do because you’re weak.”
Inches away from me, she stops, sneering. “Do you really think I give a damn what you think, Prince?”
“Yes,” I say. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be so flushed.”
“Maybe I’m just warming up.”
“By all means,” I say, raising my hands. “Try to burn me.”
She scoffs, a sound akin to a laugh, yet starkly devoid of humor. “We’re done here.”
“Perhaps we are. Normally when I court the Folk I choose the ones with more… pleasant features.”
She turns back to me. Perfect. “You think I’m here for you?”
“I do own a mirror.”
“I am here for my mother,” she speaks through gritted teeth.
“And what will she say when she sees you quitting? That you’re living up to the family expectations?”
“What?”
“That you’re going to die, darling,” I say with a smile. “How else could I say it? That you’re a failure, perhaps?”
Desdemona’s eyes glow a magnificent orange. I put my hands on her shoulders and twist her around, whispering in her ear, “Tree.”
The bottom of the tree, where the trunk meets the grass, glows the same orange as her eyes. I can feel the heat from here. Desdemona looks from the fire to me. The emotion in her eyes is not the one I expected. She looks horrified.
Perhaps the powerless act has not been an act at all.
“Put it out,” she demands. “You have to put it out!”
The fire travels in a line from the tree and directly to Desdemona. It takes me seconds to snuff it out with my shadows.
Desdemona turns on me, her face scrunching together in probable fury. Shoving me on the shoulders, she says, “I don’t need you to belittle me to start a fire!”
She’s much stronger than I would’ve given her credit for, almost knocking me to the ground. I’m excited to watch her wield a blade.
“What would you have preferred? That I fed you treats like a pet being potty trained?”
Her eyes burn into mine. “I hate you.”
“Good,” I whisper. “Power is emotion.” I tip my head toward the path of the forgotten flame. “So keep your wits about you.”
* * *
Azaire rubs his temples then tugs at his beanie and gives me a look that I know means he’s worried.
I told him that I acquired Freyr Alpine’s location.
“Okay.” Azaire doesn’t hide his exasperation. “Right now?”
“If you can spare it.” I worry right now is already too late.
“Don’t you want to think about this first?”
I’ve thought about this endlessly. Isa has a connection to the Arcanes—the first known kidnapping of my life, as the Arcanes are more partial to killing than keeping.
There’s certainly something going on within the small Marquees family that is waiting to be discovered.
“It’s a weapon Lorucille is working on,” I tell him, for a bit of inspiration on his end. Revenge and I were fast friends, longtime buddies by this point. Azaire was supportive until it became something possible.
He’s never enjoyed being red-handed, and although we both are, I won’t mind spilling more blood for the life that was taken from me.
“Like?” He points to one of Yuki’s swords.
“No. A weapon.”
He nods and tugs at his beanie. “What’s the plan?”
I hand Azaire the only photo of Freyr that Cynthia was able to find. Orange hair, a dust of freckles on his nose and cheekbones, a sharper face than most Folk.
Cynthia certainly meant this was Desdemona’s father when she told me Isa was closely linked to Freyr and not Dalin. Seeing as Freyr is alive, it’s a more convenient twist of events.
“Are you feeling up to this?” I ask Azaire while he examines the photo.
“Yeah.” He looks up. “I can do this.”
We portal out from my room to make sure Yuki will not find out we left and where to. Another annoying power of the Armanthine.
We exit through a lake that’s only a few miles away from the mountain region of the welders’ woods. The facility is carved into the base of the tallest mountain and faces east, the direction of the most deserted part of Lorucille. We follow the map Calista drew for me to the entranceway. It should be steel, which Azaire will be able to phase through. When I locate the entrance, I stay back, finding a comfortable place to hide, then I give Azaire a nod. It takes no time before he blends into the surrounding mountains and trees.
Azaire’s subconscious is a comfortable place for me, and with his lack of pushback it makes it much easier to travel through it and find my place.
I see the world through his eyes and I hear Azaire’s voice in my head. “Are you in?”
“Yes,”I answer.
Azaire walks to the entrance, cautiously checking for any sign of orphic life. The steel door is at least triple his size. He makes it through with ease.
The entrance is a wide hallway, with iron piping running along the walls that are the same rocky gray of the mountain. Azaire makes it through the hall and into what appears to be the main room. There are three stations on either side, each with a Fire Folk standing before a chunk of steel, silver, or gold.
We sparsely work with gold.
“What are they making?”Azaire asks.
“I don’t know.” I spot Freyr, in the very back corner working on a piece of gold. “Last stall to the right.”
“Going in.”
“Be careful.”
“I know.”
Azaire approaches Freyr, who is none the wiser to his presence. He presses his invisible dagger to the Fire Folk’s throat, and I can feel Freyr’s body stiffen beneath the blade.
“I have a couple of questions for you,” Azaire says, trying to keep his voice low while also making it menacing.
“Okay, okay,” Freyr says. He reaches toward a scrap piece of metal, his hands blazing.
“Left hand,” I warn Azaire, and he has Freyr’s hand gripped and pinned behind him before I can make out the movement.
“Isa Althenia,” Azaire whispers, his grip tightening around the dagger’s handle.
“I haven’t seen her in decades,” Freyr chokes against the blade to his neck.
“What’s her relation to the Arcane?”
“She has none—” his words end in a hiss when Azaire pulls his arm with more force. “I don’t know. Isa had a friend, Willow Estridon, she’ll know.”
“That’s Wendy’s last name, Luc.”
I see a glimpse of a future fight I worry he can’t win. “Get out,” I tell him.
Azaire turns, and just as I saw, there are three welders behind him. Freyr takes the opportunity to grab Azaire’s arm. His grip is searing, heating the dagger too quickly, and Azaire has no option but to drop it. It falls to the floor, no longer invisible.
“Zaire, beanie.”
“I’m not killing them.”
Azaire starts running toward the back of the room. “Not that way,” I tell him. “Get to the entrance. The mountain is too thick.”
“I can’t get around them,”Azaire tells me and runs through the wall.
“You’re going to get stuck, turn around,” I warn him, but I want to plead. Turn around Azaire, please turn around. Run the other way.
“I’ll be fine.”He runs through the rock.
“You don’t know how deep it goes.”I can feel Azaire’s mind getting tired. I am going to lose him, Azaire is going to lose his grip on his magic, and he is going to get stuck within the mountain. “Turn around, Zaire, now.”
“I can’t fight them.”
“I can. Go back.”
I can feel Azaire weighing his options before he turns around, running through the rock, growing more tired still. He makes it out to the other side. The men are back at work, two guarding the front—none were guarding when Azaire had come in—and the remaining two each hold a piece of gold in their hands.
“Wait,” I tell him.
What they’re doing doesn’t look like regular welding. Their hands aren’t just glowing, they’re vibrating, and I can see their energetic essences warping around the metals. A mixture of oranges and some yellows. They’re doing something more to the metals—to the gold, which hasn’t been used in centuries. It’s the Arcanes’ metal, found on the Arcanes’ planet, Iris.
I don’t have time to watch. Azaire is languishing, and I must get him out.
I take control of his body, one muscle at a time, until I can feel his tired and nimble limbs. It takes a little longer for me to access his heightened agility, but once I do I know I’ll be able to get him out, regardless of Azaire’s lack of fighting skills. The dagger is gone though, meaning I must take the path of least resistance.
I walk Azaire to the front of the facility.
“Do you smell that?” one of the men guarding the front says. He holds the dagger Azaire dropped.
“Flesh?” the other says.
“Yeah.”
Azaire’s flesh. The adrenaline has kept him from noticing.
Both men are in front of the steel door, one sniffing the air like a corenth.
“Zaire,” I call to him. “How are you doing?”
“I’m holding on.”
“I’m getting you out.”
I throw a punch at the man’s hand that holds the dagger, using Azaire’s body. The dagger falls to the floor and I pick it up. It doesn’t camouflage the way Azaire’s body is. The man races right for Azaire. Too much of a giveaway.
I duck Azaire’s body and send the dagger into the man’s shoulder, getting rid of it.
Azaire is fading. He’s going to lose consciousness, and I’m not sure I can still use his body if he does. I can see his hands when I pull one of the Fire Folk’s legs and send him to the ground. Not good. The other grips Azaire’s wrist, then his shoulder, and Azaire’s fading body shudders with pain.
Managing to elbow the man in the face many times over, I’ve finally gotten him to let go. I kick the man approaching, then do so again when he’s down. The second there’s a chance, I run for the door.
I make Azaire’s body run to hide as I use my own to run to him. Then I catch him when I release my grip on his subconscious, and he falls. The shoulder of his shirt has burned off, leaving behind blistered, pink skin. Same with his hand and wrist. Blood covers his elbow, though it’s not his own.
He’s in my arms when he says, “Take me to Wendy.”
* * *
“Stay with me, Zaire,” I mutter, out of breath as I run through the halls with Azaire’s limp body in my arms. I determine which is Wendy’s room through the process of elimination, then I’m knocking hard, because lives depend on it.
“Wendy?” I shout. “Are you in there?”
The door opens, and I stagger in.
“Oh my gods,” she whispers, falling against her dresser.
“Can you heal him?” Her training is far from finished. But I know why he asked me to take her here. Certified healers have restraints on how far they can go to heal a Nepenthe.
Wendy is looking at Azaire with a trembling bottom lip and wide, glassy eyes. She shakes her head like she’s afraid of him. “Why can’t I feel him?”
Because I overrode his faculties and pushed him well past burnout.
“Please,” it comes out as a cry.
If I hadn’t told him to get out when I had the vision, would the fight have even broken out? Is this my fault in more ways than one?
After multiple, shaking breaths, Wendy says, “Put him on the bed.” She walks to her closet, pulling out a wooden tray full of glass jars. She flicks through them and hands me one with a fine, purple powder inside. “Put this in his nose and mouth.”
I do.
Wendy rips her leather gloves from her hands and holds them over Azaire’s torso. Vibrant green energy flows out of her and into him. I sit in a chair in the corner while she puts her glove back on and rubs something into the burns on his shoulder, hand, and wrist. Then she starts again with the green magic.
“It’ll be a few days,” she says when she’s finished. “It would likely be faster if you’d taken him to the infirmary.”
He’ll be alright.
“What happened?” Wendy asks.
It’s unlikely she’s soundproofed her room. “It’s not safe to talk here,” I whisper.
“Then where?”
“Past the barrier. By the coast.”
She looks at me like I’m crazy, then back to Azaire. “Fine.” As she walks to the door, I fall back ever so slightly, not wanting to leave Azaire. “He’ll be safe here.”
I suppose she felt my hesitance.
When we make it to the coast, I think through my options. I don’t want to tell her, and I know I have to. The moment I say it, there is no taking it back.
“They’re back,” I say. “The corenths are attacking again, and it coincides with recent revelations of the Arcane.”
Speaking of the Arcane is forbidden, and I’ve pulled Wendy into it.
Wendy steps back. “The corenths are attacking and you’re taking me outside the barrier?”
“There’s none in Visnatus,” I say.
“That could change at any minute!” Wendy slowly shuffles back to the mastick, as though it is a subconscious pull.
“I can take care of it if anything happens.” The way I took care of Azaire? The guilt pulls my shoulders further down, and my body closes in on itself.
“Why are you involving me in this?”
“Someone was taken by the Arcane. I tracked down the one person who might be aware of a detail I’m missing.” I pause, but I’m not finished. There is no taking this back. “Your mother was involved.”
Wendy stops moving entirely, as though her body has frozen in place. The only movement she makes is her darting eyes. “Go on.”
“Eighteen years ago, a woman faked her death. Supposedly, your mother knows why. We were told to find her.”
“Is she the someone who was taken by the Arcanes?” Wendy’s voice is tight.
“Yes.” I’m taking her too deep into this.
“What was her name?”
“Isa Althenia.”
“Next time, don’t be vague about matters regarding my mom.” She pauses. “But you were sent on a fool’s errand.”
“How so?” I ask, worry seeping into my tone.
“My mom is dead.”