Chapter 30 #2
Killian shrugged in reply. Malcom yelled across the room for Killian to leave, his patience apparently growing thin. “I’ll come back for you.”
Ember nodded, throat suddenly feeling like it was lodged with cotton as he wrapped her in a hug. “Promise?” she whispered in his ear.
“I swear, Starshine.”
Ember shot up in bed, desperately trying to suck air into her lungs.
It was the third night in a row that she had dreamed of that damn song and that strange woman with the silver hair.
Her damp shirt clung to her, drenched with sweat, and she quietly crawled out of bed to change.
She rummaged through her pajama drawer when she suddenly stopped, her blood running cold.
The song that was echoing through her dreams didn’t stop when she woke up this time.
She whipped her head around, searching for the source of the noise, but it didn’t sound like it was coming from any one direction.
No, it sounded like it was all around her, reverberating off her bones and rattling around in her skull.
Just when she was about to crawl back in bed and try to drown it out, a blue light floated onto the balcony outside of her window.
She pulled on her long, woolen coat and her shoes and quietly pushed the glass door open, seeing a little blue wisp bouncing in the air two feet above the balcony floor.
“What are you doing?” Ember whispered, as she closed the door behind her. The wisp started to float away, down into the yard and toward the wall at the edge of the property. Ember sighed, dread pooling in her stomach, but decided to follow it.
What’s the worst that could happen?
She followed it over the wall, creeping through the grass and trees surrounding that property of the chateau.
The mountains loomed in the distance, towering over her like giants.
She pulled her jacket tighter, feeling the midnight breeze from the sea whispering against her skin.
She made it to the top of another hill, and all of a sudden, Eldfjall Castle came into view.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she mumbled under her breath.
The wisp stopped, bobbing up and down in front of her as if it could sense her hesitance.
“I am not going in there,” Ember said, arms crossed over her chest in defiance.
The wisp bobbed a few feet further toward the castle, and Ember shook her head again.
“No,” she said, “I am going home.” She groaned as it floated further. Ember rolled her eyes with a sigh, “I’m arguing with a speck of blue light,” she mumbled, but she followed it anyway.
She slipped over an outer wall, feeling the ward bend around her as it let her pass. The wisp floated to a door, quickly slipping underneath and inside.
“Feckin’ hell,” Ember mumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose.
She jiggled the knob on the door, but it was locked.
Of course it was locked. She sighed as she racked her brain.
“Desellar,” she whispered under her breath, and the lock opened with a quiet click.
She slipped into the kitchen beyond the door, tiptoeing across the stone floor and into a back hallway, the wisp bouncing above the floor, like it was waiting for her.
She ran her hands along the stone wall, feeling the years’ worth of chips and scratches rub against the pads of her fingers.
It was so odd how ancient certain parts of the castle looked, compared to the curated portions Helvig had shown her earlier in the day.
Was that intentional?
She came out into a hall, her feet now touching marble, and realized she was in front of the same door she had seen earlier that day.
She ran her hands along the ancient wood, electricity crackling underneath her fingertips.
She whispered the unlocking spell once, twice, three times, but nothing happened.
She sighed as she chewed on the inside of her cheek.
Why had it brought her here? And better yet, why had she followed a little ball of magical light in the dead of night by herself? The wisp bobbed beside her, like it was waiting on her to figure out some crucial piece of the puzzle.
“What? Are you waiting for an invitation?” Ember whispered to the buzzing ball of light. “What do you want me to do?”
The light hovered, suddenly breaking into multiple more lights, dozens of wisps floating around her arms and hands, and then whirling around the door, setting it aglow like a blue flame.
Ember didn’t understand why, but she reached out to touch the handle again.
It burned against her skin, lighting every nerve on fire as she bit down on her tongue, fighting back tears as she tried not to scream.
The fire burned through her veins, up her arm and into her chest, and just as quickly had it started, it was over.
Ember yanked her hand away, cradling it against her chest as the lock popped open with a quiet click.
The wisp bobbed through the door, into the darkness, and Ember followed quietly, hearing the door close behind her.
Ancient sconces lit blue as the wisps hovered above each one, lighting the path down the treacherous looking stone staircase.
It wound down, down, down, and when she was finally convinced she was somewhere under the mountain itself, it leveled out, the hall in front of her widening.
Wooden doors lined the walls, each of them locked, and Ember had no desire to try to see what was on the other side.
At the end of the hall, there was a single wooden door, the same runes carved in it as the door in the hallway above her.
She winced as she squeezed her hand, the raw feeling of magic still pulsing through her skin.
Before she had a chance to reach out and touch it, the wisp began hovering around the handle again, and the lock effortlessly popped open.
Ember narrowed her eyes, at no one in particular.
“Are you telling me you could do that the entire time?”
She could’ve sworn it laughed.
Ember wandered down the damp hall, jumping when she heard a squeak from behind her. She wandered down another set of steps, convinced that this was a pointless endeavor and was just about to turn around and head back home when she heard the song.
The song that had haunted her dreams for months, that had lived in her head and rattled her brain, was coming from the end of the hall.
Trí stoirme agus farraige caillimid cé muid féin,
Ach amháin le fáil ag réalta tar éis titim.
Snámh i dtreo an chladaigh i bhfad i gcéin,
óir níl aon áit caillte againn níos mó.
Trí fear tar eis fás agus foraoisí cosc,
Sin an ait a bhfaighidh tú na daoine óga, goidte agus i bhfolach.
Thar na gcnoc is na gcloch liath,
Sin an ait a rachaidh sibh go léir isteach sa chraic
Ember crept to the door the ethereal voice was coming from and leaned against it to listen, laying her ear beside the small window carved in the middle of the wood.
The voice sounded ancient and weathered, like someone was sucking the life right from her lungs.
Her breath caught in her throat, choking back a sob.
Something about the song felt like it was wrong to hear, like she was interfering with some private moment—a moment between this woman and the gods.
The singing stopped, and Ember held her breath.
“I didn’t know if you would come,” the voice said from behind the door. “I was hopeful, but one can never be certain.”
Ember felt her entire body turn cold. “Is this yours?” she asked, pointing to the blue wisp floating beside her, like it was a puppy she had found on the side of the road.
“It is as much yours as it is mine,” the woman replied, her voice sounding hoarse.
Ember furrowed her brow, choosing to ignore the cryptic message. “Do you know what they are?”
“I do,” the woman replied, and Ember could almost hear the smile on her lips. Was she going to make her beg?
Ember sighed, this suddenly felt like a huge waste of time.
“Some people call them Will-o’-the-Wisps,” she continued. “They’re traces of ancient magic—a magic that hasn’t thrived in this world in thousands of years.”
Ember felt her breath catch in her chest as she stared at the hovering light floating by the door.
“You can control it—harness it.”
“I can’t,” Ember muttered. “You have me confused with someone else.”
“You wouldn’t have gotten through that locked door if you couldn’t,” the woman replied. “Controlling it takes practice, but that just comes with time.”
Ember stared at her hand, flexing it a few times.
“Do you have a name?” Ember asked, trying to keep the woman talking. Something wouldn’t let her walk away.
“I’ve had many names,” she replied, “many stories told about me around campfires under the stars, but you can call me Aesira.”
“Well, Aesira,” Ember replied, “it’s nice to meet you. My name is—"
“Ember Lothbrok,” Aesira replied. “I know. I’ve known your name for almost as long as I’ve known mine.”
Ember should’ve been surprised, should’ve turned around and ran out the door, but she didn’t.
She stood there, hand still on the door as she peered inside at the strange woman.
There was something familiar about her, about the way she spoke, the cadence of her voice, something both comforting and unsettling.
“Everyone seems to know my name,” Ember sighed. It was something she still wasn’t quite used to.
“There’s a reason for that,” Aesira replied, “a reason you’re different.”
“Yes, yes,” Ember replied, waving her hand, “the prophecy, the castle, the dark king for a grandfather. I know about it all.”
“Knowing and understanding are two vastly different things,” Aesira laughed.
“How long have you been down here?” Ember asked, barely above a whisper, ignoring the not-answers the strange woman kept giving her.
“Long enough that I stopped counting,” the woman replied.
Ember peeked through the opening carved into the door.
The cell was dark, the floor, ceiling, and walls all made of stone.
The woman was in the far-left corner, curled into herself, long hair flowing wild past her shoulders.
The only light in the cell was the moonlight dancing across the onyx stone, and even that barely lit a sliver of the floor.
“And you were the one calling me? Singing to me?” Ember asked.
“I was,” Aesira replied. “There are spells around my cell, around the dungeon that keeps my song out. Seems to be bothersome to the guards, but I knew it would find you eventually.”
“Why did you bring me here,” Ember asked, brow furrowed.
“My magical core has been severely depleted,” Aesira said. “I can’t control the wisps without it, can’t do anything without it, and someone must know they’re here. Someone has to save them.”
Ember scrunched her brow. “Who?”
Before Aesira could reply, Ember heard a sniffle, and then a cry, and then a voice in the dark further down the hall.
“Ember?”
Ember’s heart stopped as the voice whispered her name. She ran down the hall, blinking her eyes to force them to adjust to the darkness. She stopped in front of a cell door, gripping the rungs as she peered inside. Little fingers wrapped around hers, dirty and cold.
Ember’s bottom lip trembled, her chest shaking as she gripped the tiny hand. “Maeve?”