Chapter 12 Jasper
Chapter twelve
Jasper
The moment my feet touched the ash-laced soil of Besmet, something ancient inside me howled awake. Thankfully, I’d been able to open the portal, since I’d never been banished. Clearly, Asrael hadn’t anticipated the ghost of a demon being able to pull that one off.
I staggered, the air punching into my lungs like cold steel, though I didn’t breathe, not really.
Ghosts didn’t need oxygen, but memory had a way of resurrecting sensation.
That and portal jumping could cause dizziness and nausea on its own; combine that with the absolute psychological bitch slap of returning to this place, yeah, I was staggering, alright.
The smell of scorched earth, blood long-since dried, and magic left to rot wrapped around me like a noose.
“Jas?” Palmer’s voice cut through the static in my mind, but I couldn’t look at her.
Not yet. I did hold my hand out to her, though.
If I was feeling the effects of the jump, I had no doubt she was feeling worse, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from where they'd locked on the horizon, where spires once stood tall, and where the pyres were lit.
I remembered the sound of chains. The way the crowd screamed for blood. My name echoing in accusation and love. The screams that held love were easily drowned out by the noise. But I remembered their faces. Shattered. Destroyed.
“I thought this place would feel smaller,” I said, voice low, raw. “But it’s like it grew in my absence. Like it fed on my death.”
Palmer didn’t flinch. She just stepped closer, close enough that her warmth skimmed my skin. “We’re not here for the ghosts,” she said with understanding and motivation. “We’re here to find the living.”
I almost told her they were one and the same.
Each step forward was a battle between the past and the present, but I kept moving. For her. For them. And for me.
I felt Palmer's fingers tighten around mine as we started moving through the twisted landscape of my past. Every shadow held a memory, and every breeze carried whispers of what was. But she was right, we weren't here for ghosts. We were here for my brothers.
"They're close," I murmured, feeling the pull of familiar energy. "The Exiled always did have a way of making their presence known."
An explosion rocked the ground beneath us as if to prove my point. Palmer stumbled, but I kept her steady, my spectral form anchoring her.
I tugged Palmer in the direction of the capital, keeping us both in spirit form as we moved through the desolate landscape. The familiar path to Naryian stretched before us, a twisted reminder of the countless journeys to the capital I'd made in my previous life.
"It’ll take us about an hour to get there," I told her, my voice carrying on the sulfuric breeze. "Assuming we don't run into any issues."
Palmer's eyes darted around, taking in the sharp rock formations and pools of bubbling liquid that dotted the terrain. "This place is... intense."
I couldn't help but laugh. "That's one way to put it.
Welcome to Hell's front porch. Though, not all of it is quite this…
dramatic. There are some really beautiful places.
I'll have to show you sometime." I smiled at her, wondering how I'd ended up here.
In this exact moment, with this amazing woman.
My death was the catalyst for a lot of shit, but this? Her? That made it all worth it.
We continued forward, our spectral forms passing through the occasional thorny vegetation that sprouted from the cracked ground. The night sky above was painted in shades of deep purple and blood red. Lightning occasionally split the clouds, but no rain ever fell here. Not anymore.
"Watch your step," I warned as we approached a particularly nasty-looking pool of magma. "Even in spirit form, that stuff will fuck you up."
A flash of white caught my eye, and I stopped short. An arctic fox darted across our path, its pristine fur a stark contrast to the darkness around us. The creature paused, intelligent eyes meeting mine for just a moment before it disappeared into the shadows.
"That was... unexpected," Palmer said, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Nothing in Besmet is what it seems," I replied, though the fox's presence nagged at something in the back of my mind. A memory, perhaps, but it slipped away before I could grasp it. "Come on, we need to keep moving."
The tall castle of Naryian began to materialize through the haze ahead of us, its obsidian surfaces reflecting the lightning that danced across the sky. My chest tightened at the sight. How many times had I walked this path, thinking I was heading home? How many times had I been wrong?
"Jasper?" Palmer's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "You're... flickering."
I looked down at my hands, watching as my form wavered like a candle in the wind. Fuck. The memories were affecting my ability to maintain consistency.
"Sorry," I muttered, forcing myself to stabilize. "This place... it gets under your skin. Even when you don't have any."
Palmer's hand found mine again, and immediately, my form solidified. "Then we'll deal with it together. Like everything else."
I squeezed her hand, grateful for her presence. "The palace is in the center of the city. That's where they'll be heading—where Asrael will be, and likely where my brothers—”
I froze mid-sentence, my entire being seizing up at a sound I hadn't heard in centuries. A sound that shouldn't be possible in this realm anymore. The air vibrated with it—that distinctive whoosh of massive wings cutting through the sulfuric atmosphere.
"What... what is that?" Palmer whispered, her blue eyes wide as they met mine.
The sound grew closer, and ancient instinct took over.
"GET DOWN!" I screamed, yanking Palmer to the ground beside me.
We hit the ash-covered rock just as what looked like massive shadow passed overhead, followed by a rush of displaced air that would have knocked us over if we'd still been standing.
Enormous obsidian claws swept through the space where we'd been moments before, close enough that I could see the individual scales reflecting in the moonlight. The dragon's wingspan had to be at least sixty feet, its body covered in scales as black as the void between realms.
"Holy shit," Palmer breathed beside me, and I couldn't help but agree with the sentiment.
"This is impossible," I muttered, watching as the beast banked hard and disappeared behind a jutting rock formation. "They were all killed. I watched the genocide happen."
The memory hit me like a physical blow—the clanking of chains, the roars of agony, the smell of burning flesh and scales. I'd stood there, helpless, as Asrael's forces systematically destroyed every dragon in Besmet. It was one of my last memories before...
"Jasper!" Palmer's voice snapped me back to the present. "We need to move. Now!"
She was right. The dragon would be coming back around for another pass. They always did. Some things you never forget, even after centuries as a ghost.
We scrambled to our feet and pressed ourselves against the cliff face. The narrow ledge we were on offered little protection, but at least the dragon wouldn't be able to grab us without risking a collision with the mountain.
"Can't we just... you know, ghost through the mountain?" Palmer asked, her eyes scanning the sky.
I shook my head. "Not here. The rock is too dense, too saturated with old magic. We'd get stuck inside it." I grabbed her hand. "We need to find cover. There's an old cave system about a quarter mile ahead. If we can—"
The dragon's roar cut through my words, the sound so powerful it shook loose rocks from above us. Palmer and I pressed closer to the wall as debris rained down around us. The beast appeared again, this time flying lower, its massive head turning to track us with ancient, intelligent eyes.
"No fucking way," I breathed, squinting through the haze. "That's impossible."
"What? What's impossible?" Palmer demanded, her grip on my hand tightening.
"The dragon… It’s Malik."
"Oh, right. Malik!" Palmer sarcastically gritted out through a clenched jaw, trying to stay steady in our position.
I didn't even try to stop the smile.
The dragon wheeled around for another pass, and this time, I could clearly see directly into the beast's eyes. I released Palmer's hand and held both of mine up.
The ancient hand signals felt foreign yet familiar as I traced them through the air—three fingers spread wide, then a circular motion followed by a sharp downward slash. It was a greeting I hadn't used in centuries, one that meant "Friend of the Scales."
"What are you doing?" Palmer hissed, tugging at my sleeve. "We need to run!"
"Trust me," I said, not taking my eyes off the approaching dragon. His massive form blocked out light from the moon as he barreled toward us.
"Jasper!" Palmer's voice cracked with panic. "It's going to kill us!"
I kept my hands steady, repeating the gesture. The dragon was close enough now that I could see individual scales glinting and feel the heat radiating from his massive form. "Come on, old friend," I whispered. "Remember me."
Palmer screamed, trying to pull me back, but I stood my ground. The dragon's maw opened, revealing rows of teeth longer than my arm. His wings tucked close to his body as he dove straight for us.
"JASPER!"
At the last possible moment, recognition flashed in those ancient eyes.
The dragon's wings snapped open with a crack like thunder, and he pulled up sharply, the wind from his passage nearly knocking us off our feet.
His massive form wheeled overhead before landing on the wider ledge above us with surprising grace for a creature his size.
I laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me. "Still love the dramatic entrance, I see."
"You know this dragon?" Palmer demanded, her voice shaking slightly as she pressed against my side.