Chapter 52
Chapter
Fifty-Two
Sofia
Inever want to fall in love. Never want to feel what my brother felt as he drove that dagger into Sable.
He loved Sable. I can’t understand how, but he did.
Hector tried so hard to change Sable, but no matter how you chisel stone, in the end, it’s made of the same thing. Whether it’s fashioned into a boulder, brick, pebble, or dust, it’s the same matter.
“Selene’s dying!” Hector’s panicked whisper pulls tears from my eyes.
Can Titus see it as he begs her to live? She is death. Her skin has already given up.
No, he can’t. Titus tries to force his blood into Selene's mouth, desperately hoping it will heal some part of her. Selene’s wounds are too catastrophic.
I look at Hector’s small patch of skin that Sable rotted.
It’s green and raw, infected, and in need of a mage elixir to heal it before its roots start to spread deeper into his healthy skin.
We can’t heal ourselves as fast as vampires can; our inner healing is like a band-aid, good for small cuts and wounds, but it uses all our magic.
“What do we do?” I’m too scared to move, to interrupt Titus and Selene. I look at Hector as he cries; it’s like watching Sable perish again. “Brother,” I touch his arm.
He grabs my cuffs, melting the edges of them so I can slip my hands free.
Suddenly, light pulses in the room. Magic leaves Selene’s body, and a piece of it slams into Titus. Another flare flies to the Vitalis, snapping it open. The pages flip wildly as the wind stirs.
Hector’s body jerks, and he yelps as he rolls onto his back. “Hector!” I grab him, careful not to touch his burns.
What in the world… His tattoos begins to glow, shimmering as some invisible pen traces over the pattern. Frantically, I look back at the Vitalis. An open page stares back at me. The faded ink is now deep and permanent. The stab in the middle of the paper slowly knits closed!
“It’s… healed! Hector!” Just as Everett told us they would be if Selene chose the right path. “Hector!”
He groans as he rolls closer to me. I grab him. “Are you okay?” Shit!
Before I can speak again, Titus roars a sound that will forever haunt me. Heat! All I feel is fire rushing towards us. I cry as I cover my brother. I open the portal, but I’m worried I’m too late. The fire grabs me, covering my back as I push Hector through it. Then myself.
My body arches, recoils, but at first I feel no pain. Just signals to my mind that something is hot!
Screams, shouts, panic. Hector and I hit solid ground. Our kingdom was too far to portal to, so I took us to the closest place I could think of.
Oh no! Now I feel.
I scream, trying to roll over, but no! That’s where the pain is. I roll onto my stomach; tears cause my face to slip over the stone floor.
“Fire!” Someone yells.
“Adrian! Move Tristen! Get him out of here!”
“Guards!”
A strong gust of wind shoves me with such violence that I slide over the floor.
“Sofia!” Hector yells, but then he groans. He’s hurt. “Don’t touch her! We’re on your side. Everett sent us. Please! Titus needs your help!”
My fingers curl into the cold floor, trying to dig into it, so I can bury myself. End all the espionage and suffering.
My back’s so hot. “It stings,” I cry, so wracked with pain, I can’t move. Boots come closer, a shadow kneels, lowering his face so I can see his eyes.
Violet eyes. “If you try anything, I’ll peel the rest of your flesh off.”
“Death seems welcomed,” I choke.
“Sofia! Fuck! Her back! Stop, I’m not fighting you. Help her!”
“You can’t move, can you?” Violet eyes state. I shake my head. “Good. There’s no escaping me.”
I close my eyes, pushing out more tears.
I must have blacked out; all I feel is torment as my eyes flare open. “Stop!” I scream at the hands pressing into my back.
“It’s a healing ointment.”
That’s not my brother. “Where’s Hector?”
“He’s not here.”
“Where is he?” I groan in agony.
“I’d be more worried about your lovely neck.”
I can’t stop shaking. I portaled us to Selene’s room. This isn’t it.
“You’re in the dungeons.”
That voice… “Violet?” I groan. I’m still face-down on the floor. It’s damp and musky, filled with ghostly whispers of tortured souls.
I twist my neck. I’m in a cell. I pivot to see the violet-eyed man. His face assaults me—cold, hard, sharp, emotionless at first glance. His hair is lightning, wicked, and scary, yet enchanting. He’s dressed in fighting leather, covered with weapons on his back, hips, and tucked in his boots.
His arms are more muscled than most warriors. His knuckles are covered in scars as he pours out more ointment into his palm. His hands move over my scarred back, applying the ointment.
As if sensing my stare, he stops and flashes me his fangs. “That doesn’t scare me,” I mutter.
“The chains on your wrist should,” he retorts.
Mage cuffs. I huff, “Not all chains are made of iron.” I wiggle my wrist. “This is a comfort. Sometimes my magic is so consuming, I find a dark, lonely corner and scream.” Oops, did I say that out loud?
Hooded eyes narrow, causing the violet to look more amethyst. My favorite color. “I’ll find out what scares you.”
His smirk doesn’t reach his eyes. I’m not sure eyes like his can smile.
I melt into the cool floor. “I’ll save you the time and just tell you.”
His mouth twitches, but before I can answer, he asks, “Can you open another portal?”
“What?”
“When I slip these pretty little cuffs off your hands, can you open a portal? Or are you nothing but a deceitful, scarred mage?” Scarred. The ointment helps with the burns, but I’ll need another cream within the first hours to erase the scars, or they will be permanent.
How many hours have passed?
He leans closer, “And before you ask, your brother talked; he had an odd story to tell. One I don’t buy.”
“Stories are not meant to be sold. They are intended to be listened to.”
His hand slides under my chin, twisting my neck so I can see him fully. He says nothing, which is more unsettling.
“Why would I portal us here?” I break the tension. “We had the Vitalis. I could have grabbed it and run. Instead, I came here. We’ve been on your side. We’re still on your side.”
A cold wind presses my face back down. He lets go and steps back. “Answer me.” His tone sounds like a war hammer swinging down.
Closing my eyes, I tug at my magic trapped under the cuffs. I’ve always been different. Unlike other mages, my magic has much larger reserves. My father found out and tested me brutally. At most, I opened twenty portals in one day.
He pushed and pushed until I almost died. I listened, because I craved death; I wanted his teachings to stop.
But I always woke up. Always. Just as I did now.
Sighing, the man kneels, places his hands on my hips, turning me gently onto my side. Air flows where clothes should cover. My dress is gone!
“You changed my clothes.” I gasp. How long was I out? I have on loose pants and that’s it. A thin cloth was laid on the floor.
He presses the fabric to my breasts, keeping me covered until I’m stable on my side.
“Changed?” he grunts. “They were burnt away.”
“You still covered me.” My throat thickens. Terrible memories plague me. I’m not horrified he saw me naked; so many others have.
His right eye narrows, like a pair of tweezers that can see the thorns under my flesh.
I don’t want him to see that part of me. “Yes. I can open a portal.”
Did I expect a smile, shock, or anger? Violet eyes reveal nothing. He’s a wall no one has dared to climb.
“You’re lying,” I whisper. My throat burns; my cheeks feel tight and dry.
I know what eyes like his want. They want to be scaled and conquered; they want to crumble into hands that are capable of love.
Looking in the mirror, I saw the same eyes staring back at me not so long ago.
Then Everett found me. He loved me in his unusual way.
Everett collected broken toys; they made the most loyal of soldiers.
Everett knew we’d always feel our cracks, and that we’d admire the glue that filled them now.
I will forever fight in Everett’s honor. I will continue to recruit in his name.
He sinks onto his knees, his eyes locked on mine. “Excuse me?”
I feel like this man, my captor, needs saving. All he’s ever been is an object that other people move. My exhale widens my back, but no pain assaults me. I tell him the same thing I told Hector, the same statement Everett told me.
It saved my brother, turning him into one of Everett’s spies.
“Your voice is chalk pressed onto a board. It has one purpose: to deliver a message. Nothing more, nothing less. You’re a soldier who does as he’s ordered. You don’t ask, for fear you’ll be killed. What kind of life is that?”
“The kind that kept me alive.”
“Are you?” Palms to the floor, I push myself up, making sure to keep hold of the thin material covering my chest.
He doesn’t shift back to give me space. “Am I what?” Wind swirls around him in warning, but it also pulls me closer.
“Living?” I question. “My brother and I were like you.” I hug the fabric.
His eyes trace the curves of my body. “Chalk. Nothing more and a lot less. Everett filled us with hope. He gave us a purpose, turned us into hands that hold chalk, set it free now. I know why you asked me if I can open a portal. You want me to take you back to Titus.”
He’s unmoving as pages in a book, waiting for me to turn them so he can reveal more of his plot.
“I can,” I admit. “But I fear what you’ll find when I do. Empty men can not fill others.”
He seizes my wrist, hands harder than mage cuffs, dragging me to him.
The thin fabric drops between us, leaving only his leather cuirass to cover my breasts.
A raw burn kisses my kneecaps from the swift motion.
“You’re going to take me to my brother, and if he finds you guilty, I will be the one to kill you,” he states.
Hector and I feared this. We knew Titus and Selene might not forgive us. If we had to die so the world didn’t perish, we would. We saw what the other side was capable of.
Shades.
Terrible creatures that can sicken an entire town. That’s why Hector killed our people. Like stars in the night, the Shades emerged from the darkness. A plague began to spread, blackening veins and eyes. It turned some humans and mages into beasts.
Hector had no choice but to burn our lands and those infected, so it would not spread. Only the army that was outside the walls survived.
Boots slap against damp stone. “Ryker!” a man shouts.
“Ryker,” I whisper his name, tasting it on my tongue.
His scowl runs over me like flood waters drowning out my fear. He stands and exits the cell, but not before he looks over his shoulder at me.
“Lift your arms.” Ryker’s jaw stiffens as he removes my mage cuffs. His voice echoes off the walls of the dungeon, drowning out the faint drip-drops the walls produce, and weeping from other prisoners.
I do as ordered. “You’re angry I didn’t fight to keep my privacy,” I state. “It doesn’t matter to me.”
Why did I admit that?
“Dignity should matter.”
“I do not define dignity with my vanity,” I reply. “You’re not the first man to see my flesh,” I whisper.
His hands tug the shirt down. “I’ll be the last.” He locks eyes with mine, fingertips digging into my hips before he grunts and steps back.
Vice Admiral Adrian Airendale stands watch. Adrian was Galen’s prized horse. When did Everett turn him into a spy? “What do you define dignity by?” Adrian asks.
Ryker grabs my wrist, his hands replacing the cuffs. “Doing one’s duty to the end,” I answer.
“Ryker’s going to need a large bag to put the Vitalis in, and something to grab the sword with. It had a strange effect on Sable when she grabbed it. I would hesitate to touch it with bare hands.”
“We didn’t ask for your input. Now,” Ryker drops my hands and squares my shoulders, “open the portal.”
“If you think Titus is walking out, you're wrong. You will be dragging or carrying him. But, so be it.” My magic swirls, the destination visualized in my mind. The portal opens, filling the small cell with light. Ryker’s fingers hold me in a vice as he begins to guide me through the portal.
I wrap my heart in a cast, knowing what lies on the other side is bound to break it.
Love is a beautiful thing. We sing praises about it; we go on adventures to hunt it down.
We never talk about life after love. We never mention how our palettes go from colorful to nothing; not gray or black, or muddy tones. Just nothing.
We never show the massive wound love leaves behind. We never admit the struggles we endure when we try to fill that gap.
We never talk about the after, because if we did, no one would seek out love to begin with.