Chapter Sixty-Eight
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
A young boy with black curls lay on his front, a sob escaping him as his back pulsed with pain. Father had called him a coward, and so the boy had replied, ‘I’m not a coward. I’m a winged lion.’
Father had laughed cruelly at that. And as his light had carved into the little prince’s back, he’d taunted, ‘You want wings, little Lion? Here are your wings.’
The prince tried to shift in his bed, but the places where his wounds had been still pulsed and flared with pain, no matter that the healer had smoothed his skin back together. He let out another sob, trying to stay as still as he could.
‘Please, please, please,’ he whispered, looking out of the windows to his balcony. ‘If there is someone out there that can hear me, please help me?’
He grasped on to his plea as tears tracked down his face, wetting his pillow and he repeated it over and over in his head, until finally the tears stopped, and he drifted into sleep.
Sometimes, Enzo’s dreams frightened him more than real life. As he opened his eyes to his nightmare, his breath came too quickly as he looked around the marble room. He could hear a whip snapping, and the sound set him shaking.
‘No,’ he cried. ‘Please, no. I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll try harder.’
The whip sounded closer again, flashes of light painting the room, and the little prince screamed, knowing what was to come.
‘Please,’ he sobbed. ‘Someone help.’
There was a popping sound in the wall as the marble parted before him. He scrambled back, his jaw agape as a girl fell through the room and landed on the floor with a yelp. This was certainly not like his other dreams. The little girl stood up, brushing her nightgown primly. Enzo took another wary step back.
The little girl finally looked at him, her eyes narrowing. ‘Why are you crying?’ she asked. Her eyes were silver and her voice funny.
‘None of your beeswax,’ Enzo replied, sniffing loudly as he crossed his arms.
The girl huffed out an impatient breath. ‘You know, Lukas gets told off when he says that. It’s not polite.’
‘Well, that’s babyish. I’m eight years old. I can say what I like.’ He cast her a sideways glance. ‘How old are you?’
‘I’m five and a half, and you’re not very nice.’ He noticed that shadows were curling out of her, their tendrils touching him. He knew that darkness was evil. But these shadows felt nice. ‘They seem to like you,’ she said as he brushed off a tendril.
‘I’m sorry.’ He stepped closer. ‘I’ve not had a very good day. My father hurt me.’
The little girl’s silver eyes softened. She walked right up to Enzo before he could move.
‘What did he do?’
Enzo turned to show her his back, but a fresh sob of frustration escaped him as he found it smooth.
‘He hurt my back. But no one believes me.’
‘I believe you.’
Enzo stared at the little girl in surprise.
‘Why did he hurt you?’ she asked.
‘Because I told him I was a lion.’
She cocked her head. ‘Well, you do have lion eyes. And you seem very brave. I think you are a lion.’
Enzo smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had.
‘I’m sorry that you’re sad,’ she said. ‘You know, whenever I’m sad, my papa sings me a song to make me feel better. Sofia says it’s stupid, but she also says I shouldn’t dreamwalk by myself, so I don’t really listen to her.’ The little girl grabbed Enzo’s hand. He could barely feel it, but still sat down next to her. ‘Lie down,’ she commanded.
‘You’re very bossy for a five-year-old,’ he grumbled.
‘Five and a half. Now, close your eyes.’ She lay down next to him, her black hair tickling his face. She was still holding his hand. ‘Close them!’ she ordered. He did, squeezing them shut.
‘Now, listen carefully. I want you to remember this song. And when you sing it, it will make you feel better. It’s a magick song.’ She stroked his hair clumsily.
‘Ready?’
Enzo nodded, his eyes still shut tight as the little girl began to sing.
‘I loved him more than the dark loves the night. And he loved me more than the day loves the light—’
‘Lions may fly, and lovers will die—but my love, it will live on,’ Enzo finished, his voice cracked as he sang, one shaking hand in Elara’s hair as tears wet his face.
Elara blinked as the surroundings of the throne room came back to them.
‘I remember,’ she whispered. ‘I remember it all.’
‘You were mine before I knew. We are destined, you and I. By something other than fate, other than Stars. We will always find our way back to each other. We have before, and we will again.’ With his palm still pressed to her chest, he rubbed his thumb over her heart. ‘Even in death, I will be by your side. My love will live on.’
Elara let loose a shuddering sob as the memory buried itself in her heart, alongside his power. Pain and anger pulsed through her at the joke fate had made of her life. It was a cruel irony. A divine orchestration to have met Enzo as a child and be led back to him. To search her whole life for love and have found it with her soulmate who was now dying in her arms.
Elara memorized his face, every feature that she’d spent hours replaying in her mind—his golden eyes, the scent of warm amber, his soft parted lips, the callouses on his hands. She closed her eyes as her tears continued to fall and gripped his hand with her uninjured one.
‘My princess.’ He smiled. And with a sigh, he brought her lips to his, pressing the duskglass blade gently into her lap. Golden power pulsed between them. It rippled through the pool, setting a glow around the throne room. Both of their cheeks were wet as she drank him in, kissing him gently, memorizing every single featherlight touch. His kernel of light finally settled in her being, fizzing in her bloodstream as it mixed with her shadows. A cry erupted from her as she clutched his face, unable to let him go. ‘My soulmate,’ were the last words on his lips, before his head fell back.
Elara let out a scream that tore from her soul. It was an ancient sound, something born from a part of her that she had buried her whole life.
The lack of Enzo’s warmth, of his light, was such an absence that Elara swayed where she sat. She heard a slam from above, the sound of ice splintering.
In a flash of red starlight, Ariete landed a few feet from where Elara sat, something in his arms. She staggered forwards out of the pool, leaving Enzo’s body, her heart screaming with every step she took away from him. Her broken wrist was limp against her chest, yet she did not care that she was going into battle one-handed. Or that her head pounded. Or that her magick was now a near-empty well.
As Elara approached, she realized what Ariete was holding. Merissa struggled weakly in the Star’s arms, a knife at her throat.
‘You put up a fight, Elara, I’ll give you that. But it’s time to come home now.’
‘Let her go, Ariete,’ Elara uttered, palming the duskglass. There was nothing left in her to shout. Her soul was with Enzo. The only thing possessing the husk of her body was vengeance. Vengeance and darkness.
‘I killed your parents. I killed Sofia. I killed your precious lover. And if you don’t come with me now, I’ll kill your beautiful maid. Then I’ll go back to the roof where your little ice-wielder lies unconscious and kill her too.’
Elara inhaled, spiralling into her power. Though it protested and shrieked, she yanked it to her. Then with a cry, she attacked.
Dark slammed into Merissa, tearing her from Ariete’s grasp. The shadows wrapped around her friend as they pulled her to Elara, setting her on her feet.
Merissa staggered back behind her.
‘Stay with Enzo’s body,’ Elara said to her. ‘If I die…’ She pressed the blade of duskglass into Merissa’s hand. ‘Finish him.’
Before the Star or Merissa had a chance to react, things from Elara’s own deepest nightmares flocked around her into the form of shadows. Winged things, angry things. They flew, pouring out of her of their own volition and into the already darkened evening sky through the gaping hole above them. The shadows spread, extinguishing every bit of light that seeped into the room so that they were left in gloom. Ariete took a step back.
‘Monsters are not born, they become,’ she said. Her voice did not sound like her own. It was distant, so distant. As though she were underwater. ‘I want you to see what you’ve made me. Know it was you who unleashed it.’
She brought her hands together, gritting her teeth as her broken wrist flared with pain. She closed her eyes as Enzo’s light mixed with her darkness inside, the humming intensifying as her very essence turned into duskglass.
Elara opened her eyes as the throbbing blend of powers rested between her hands.
She poured it into one palm as the other conjured a rope of shadow that slammed into Ariete, knocking him to the ground. Then she threw her injured wrist out, cursing, as long, wicked shards of duskglass flew from it. The dark blades sank into Ariete, pinning him to the floor as he screamed in agony.
He tried to summon his starlight—there was a flare of red, but then it sputtered and died out. The duskglass had worked, his power stifled.
Elara approached Ariete slowly. One step after another.
‘Who do you pray to, King of Stars?’
Ariete panted, gritting his teeth in pain.
She gave a smile, though she knew it was not a human smile. His red stare was filled with hatred as he lay pinned and panting. His glittering blood poured from the blades piercing his immortal skin.
‘I used to pray to you. To all the Stars. Enzo did too. You never listened. Never once answered our pleas.’
She crouched down, yanking a slice of the duskglass out from where it pinned his thigh. He bellowed again.
‘You could try and pray to me. But I don’t think I’ll listen either.’
With a deep breath, she raised the slice above her head, aiming it for his heart.
She hesitated.
Coughed, as she felt a blade tear through her back.
Turned to look into Merissa’s green, determined eyes as the demi-Star pushed the duskglass dagger further into Elara’s back.
Looked to Ariete, whose surprise quickly turned to horror.
‘What have you done?’ he said to Merissa as Elara sank to the ground.
Elara’s trembling hands came to rest on the blade protruding from her chest.
‘Why?’ she whispered to Merissa.
Merissa knelt before her, the set of her mouth firm. ‘Remember who you are,’ she said, ‘and the world will remember it too.’
A ringing began to sound in Elara’s ears as a coldness swept over her. She slumped on to her front. The ringing became a word, repeated again and again.
RememberRememberRememberRemember
A deep understanding resounded through Elara as the phrase finally took hold, and she died.