Chapter Seven
I take the long way home through Auxin Forest, following the waterway that snakes through the trees towards the southern reaches of Stellargrove.
A high tower built from smoky grey stone peeks between the trees – Nexus Academy, school for Emos. As always, I try to imagine myself wandering its halls as a student.
The only worries plaguing my mind would be test results and which extracurricular club to join. Not two murdered merchants and a sister who… I shake the thought from my head.
When a watercraft sidles up next to me and the helmsman offers me a lift, I toy with the idea of escaping, urging him to chart a course far south, to the foggy mountains and salty shores of the southern principality, Wrisha.
Or, if that’s not far enough, the heat-drenched deserts of the western principality, Solara.
I briefly entertain thoughts of a new beginning, perhaps working for a fisherman or tending to a farmer’s fields, a chance to reshape my identity and avoid the consequences of my mistakes.
But then, without fail, the image of Elara’s lifeless form thrusts itself back into the forefront of my mind. I can’t give up on her. She deserves more. If there’s any chance to save her – and admittedly it’s a long shot – I have to take it.
I shake my head at the helmsman and walk on. When at last I arrive home, it’s getting dark already. Our cottage is a shadowed silhouette against the three moons, and where the sweet aroma of Elara’s bakes usually permeates the air around it, all I smell now is damp.
My feet are heavy as I push open the front door. I’m numb. I climb aimlessly up the stairs to Elara’s bedroom. Each step is a crack of lightning in the quiet. This is torture.
There’s no point in delaying the inevitable. I already know what’s waiting for me beyond her bedroom door.
I take a shaky breath, mentally preparing myself. My hand trembles as it reaches for the doorknob and, with one final inhale, I quickly push open the door.
Breathe, Talia. I can’t. It feels like I’ve been running for miles. My lungs are empty, and my ribs are achy.
I gasp. Elara is not where I left her. Could I have imagined the whole thing? Is she going to walk through that door any minute, scolding me for tracking dirt up the stairs?
“Looking for her?” a voice says behind me.
I spin, and my heart lurches. A figure stands in the door of the bedroom, features shadowed. I recognize those shaggy lilac tresses. The sharp set of his jaw.
It’s Taron.
A small figure is suspended in mid-air beside him. Elara’s body. She’s a mere echo of her former self, her once plump cheeks now replaced by gaunt hollows, and her limbs hanging lifelessly by her sides.
“What are you doing with her?” I tighten my fists, feeling my nails dig into the soft skin of my palms.
“Don’t you want your sister to be somewhere safe while you’re gone?
” Taron’s tone is flat and emotionless. “We both know you can’t call an undertaker.
That would arouse too many questions. You have a chance to bring her back, and you won’t be able to do that with the Principal Guard sniffing around.
” It feels like a practised speech, as if his words have been taken directly from the Soulreaper’s mouth.
“Leave her alone.” I react instinctively, stepping towards Taron, furious negative energy gathering in my palms like lightning. But before I can reach him, something stops me, a force, like an invisible arm holding me in place.
Taron waves his hand, and the force increases. My feet are like lead, and the energy balling in my fists is redirected to the floor. Then I remember, he’s a Luna. His talents can manipulate gravity.
Taron gestures again, curling his fingers and thrusting his palm outwards, and the invisible force shifts to propel me backwards. I’m pressed against the wall. Powerless. Trembling. Sick to my stomach.
The negative energy dissipates from my fingertips, like a weapon sliding from my grasp. I strain my neck. That’s when I see the big, burly man step out from behind Taron. I recognize him. He was in Elara’s room with the Soulreaper when she was murdered.
He grabbed her…
“What’s the hold-up?” he barks, baring sickly yellow teeth that jut unevenly from dark gums. His coat is taut around his brawny arms, its buttons on the verge of surrender.
“I thought she’d want to say goodbye first,” Taron says.
The man snorts. He ogles me as though he’s offering me a favour, and gestures with his hand. “Go on, then. Make it quick.”
Elara’s form hovers in the hallway in front of me, the tip of her plait grazing the dusty floor. I find I can move again, only just. I reach out to her, and something inside of me breaks. Her hand is so cold. Tears are running down my face.
“We need to go,” Taron says, and I realise he’s talking to me.
I can’t speak. I give her hand one final squeeze.
The man now gestures, using his own Luna talents to guide Elara’s weightless body down the stairs and out of the front door.
As I watch my beloved sister disappear, it occurs to me – if we don’t win the tournament, this will be the last time I ever see her.
“Where is he taking her?” I collapse on the floor with my head in my hands.
“That’s nothing for you to worry about.” Taron walks forward and, to my surprise, crouches in front of me. Closer than I expect him to. He feels every bit as cold up close as he does from afar. “You’ll have your sister back once you make good on your end of the bargain.”
He stands and turns, pausing with his back to me. “Get some sleep. We leave tomorrow at sunrise.”
“I have a job…”
“It’s been handled.”
“Oh.”
“Anything else?”
“I guess not.”
“Be at the southern edge of Auxin Forest. Do you know where the waterways between Stellargrove and Moondance Haven converge?” He looks over his shoulder at me. His eyes feel like frost creeping over glass. His mouth is tight and grim.
I nod, but don’t get up.
“Don’t be late. We’ve left supplies on the dining table.” Then Taron slinks down the stairs and out into the night.
My feet propel me downstairs after him, where I slam the door and lock it. Not that it should do anything to stop him if he returned. I lean my back against the door.
“Taron,” I mutter, and his name tastes acrid on my tongue. That cold, distant expression of his continues to play before my eyes. To come into my home and take my sister’s lifeless body… Does he have no conscience? No heart?
But why allow me to say goodbye to her? Was it all some sick ploy to ensure my cooperation in the plan? Or was he actually being kind?
I grit my teeth. There’s no way I can compete in the tournament with him. I refuse, and yet … I have to. I know I do. I don’t have a choice.
My turbulent thoughts grind to a halt as I notice a leather rucksack on the kitchen table. He mentioned supplies. The rucksack’s top is flung open to expose a menacingly long knife. I shiver as I wonder what I’ll be expected to use it for.
I toss the knife aside in disgust. It lands on the floor with an awful clatter. If I’m truly committed to going through this, I’ll opt for my shears in whatever beastly trial we face. They’re delicate and precise, and at least I know how to use them.
I run my palm across the smooth, glossy leather of the rucksack. It has a subtle iridescent quality, with a sheen that shifts between muted greens and browns.
This has to be real, made from Lorthen hide. They’re massive reptilian beasts with tough skin that roam the rocky highlands of Wrisha, feeding off rare minerals said to make their hide resistant to elemental forces. Their skin is expensive – very.
Deeper down in the satchel, I find a flask, a few rolls of bandages and a shimmering golden brooch. It’s a piece worn by every competitor in the Reckoning, a badge to signify one of the three principalities as their home.
My fingers trace the emblem, the Astralorian insignia: a crescent moon nestled among the sprawling branches of an ancient tree, surrounded by stars.
As children, Elara and I would cobble together our own Reckoning brooches from any stones and bits of fabric we could find.
Stellargrove would transform into Aurora Isle, the legendary island and tournament grounds that emerge only once a decade during the Obsidian Eclipse, a rare celestial event when our three moons, Crea, Vita and Mors, align in perfect synchronization.
We’d chase each other around the forest, letting the allure of a granted wish fuel our adventures.
Now, what was once a childhood fantasy has morphed into a bleak reality, a looming storm-cloud that casts a shadow over me.
I polish the brooch with my sleeve before tucking it back into the bag. It’s supposed to symbolize honour, but, for me, it will forever be a reminder of my shame.
The other competitors will wear it with pride, carried by a determination to bring glory to their principalities. I’ll be wearing it as an impostor.
Finally, I see the note beside the bag.
May these provisions serve you well, dear girl, as success is the only outcome I’ll accept in exchange for your sweet sister. May the Breath of the Ancient Spirits help you realize your full Emo talents.
Sincerely, Madame Vera
So that’s her name, then. Madame Vera.
I collapse on to the kitchen floor, and my sobs reverberate like thunder in the confined space. My chest churns with equal parts fury and hopelessness. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to get back up again, when—
A prickling sensation. The presence of a dark, oppressive energy in the room. I tilt my head up. At the top of the staircase, the form of a young woman lingers in the shadows.
Elara. Or rather, her Soul Wraith. It must’ve materialized from the torment she experienced in her final moments.
She starts walking down the stairs, and I strain to breathe. My lungs feel like they’re filled with sand. I want to run to her, wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tight.
But then a ghastly smile stretches across her face, like a serrated scar, and I remember, it’s not her.
The Soul Wraith slowly descends the stairs, grinning at me the whole time.
It has an apron tied around its waist. Elara’s apron, an old white thing with pink frills that used to belong to our mother.
Spoon in one hand, mixing bowl in the other, the Soul Wraith potters about the tiny kitchen, swinging open cupboards and toying with the dials on the oven.
I should purge the energy – I know I should – but I can’t.
How can I destroy the last part of her that remains? How can I erase the ghost of her pain when it mirrors my own?
Only when the Soul Wraith starts scattering flour all over the floor do I snatch a bundle of sage from a pile on the table, quickly ignite it with a match and wave it desperately through the air. The fragrant plume unfurls, a white mist threading through the kitchen towards its target.
In an instant, the Soul Wraith erupts – a burst of midnight-blue liquid that paints the walls and ceiling in long splatters – and its exposed form takes flight.
I chase the ominous haze through the kitchen, twice around the table, until I manage to guide it into the cupboard beneath the stairs.
I slam the door shut, barricade it with sage and fall against it with my back, panting heavily. It won’t be trapped in there for long, but hopefully, I’ll be long gone by the time it reveals itself again. It’s not her, I remind myself once more.
Just this morning, I was worried about being late for work, and now it all seems so trivial.
If I could go back in time, I’d do so in a heartbeat.
And I wouldn’t dare look at another jewel.
I would never steal again. But I can’t. Instead, all I can do is crawl up the stairs and into my bed, somehow remembering to set an alarm before I cry myself to sleep.
Taron’s words repeat in my mind.
We leave tomorrow at sunrise. Be at the southern edge of Auxin Forest.
In a matter of hours, I will be there, where the water paths between Stellargrove and Moondance Haven converge.