15.1 || Death to the Twins
A strong arm was the only thing that blocked Morana from looking through the sorcerer's enchanted trinkets to see if anything was worth stealing. She didn't get to have a proper look before while his eyes had watched their every move, but Damian had other ideas.
"We haven't got time for that," he insisted. "I still need to get back to the castle before nightfall."
"Spoil-sport." The necromancer pouted, making a mental note to sneak back into the tower some other time.
If he was researching her ancestors, there was a chance he had discovered something valuable — something that she had no idea about.
"Do you really know how to get a Dragon's scale?
" she questioned. "Did you bring one with you from Vahan? "
If his kingdom was home to Fireborns, people who were born with a natural affinity to forge fire from their fingertips, perhaps they also had Dragons lurking in their lands.
"Something like that," was his only response.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, finding themselves back at the entrance to the tower, Morana stopped, causing Damian to walk into her. Footsteps approached, crunching over the gravelled path.
"People," she whispered, motioning for the Fireborn to remain quiet.
It seemed they weren't the only ones who had plans to visit the sorcerer.
She pulled out a handful of bone shards from her pouch, sharp edges digging into her palm signifying that this battle was about to get deadly.
However, the voices that emerged as the new intruders neared instilled fear instead of excitement into her heart.
"Once we have this information, all that's left is to capture Morana The Cursed and interrogate her for all that she's worth." The words echoed through the ruins, reverberating through the assassin's mind.
She knew that voice. The pitch, the tone, the stubborn determination.
It was her sister.
"Shit. That's the princess," Damian hissed, frantically looking around for somewhere to hide. "Bone girl?"
Bone shards fell to the floor, scattering across the room as she backed away from the entrance. She couldn't face her sister. Not here, not now, not ever. Not after what Morana had done that night.
She reached for her necklace whose glow was more vibrant than she had ever seen, yet the desire it usually sang with was gone. Only a deeply dug panic remained.
"No, no, no," she repeated over and over, as if somehow it would banish the memories she laid to rest long ago.
The necromancer gripped her mind for a plan, for the quick solutions she always managed to conjure, but she had nothing.
Persistent reminders of the life she left behind were all that surfaced.
"Vivi! Look, your necklace likes mine! They're friends." Young laughter rang in her ears.
"What are we going to do?" Damian grew restless as the princess came closer. When Morana made no effort to move, he dragged her over to a rotting cabinet, shoved them both inside, and closed the doors behind them. They were plunged into darkness except for the purple hue of the Dyonite crystal.
The assassin gasped for air, her throat constricting as her sister and her companion entered the tower. After being apart for so long, after the years she was tempted to sneak visits to her in the castle, they were mere inches away from one another.
Morana couldn't hate it more.
Damian pressed a hand against her mouth, muffling the sound of her panic.
"No, they're not!" she replied. A small Ilyana stood in front of her, grinning as she held her new necklace in her hands. "They're twins like us." Her younger self bit on the purple gemstone, spitting it out when a dark bitterness coated her tongue.
"But they're different colours." Ilyana frowned.
"What difference does that make? Twins don't have to be exactly the same."
A redhead pushed her way into her view, emerging from the blurred surroundings of the memory. "Do I get a necklace too?" Mud was streaked across her cheeks from where she had just trained with the guards' children. Clumps of it had even hardened on her ponytail.
"No." She placed her hands on her hips. "You aren't special enough."
"That's enough, Vivi." Queen Oleress joined them, after returning the box the necklaces came from to her bedroom. "These jewels are royal heirlooms, Cloven. Unfortunately, you can't have one." She crouched down and patted the girl on the head with a reassuring smile.
When her lower lip began to wobble, Ilyana reached out and held her hand. "It's okay. You're special in your own way, Clove."
"Can you braid my hair like yours?" Viviana pleaded, her fingers winding their way into her mother's hair. The contrast between the dark strands and the violet, shimmering fabric woven into them was something she was always complimented on. "I want a pretty ribbon too."
"Alright," Oleress chuckled. "But we have to make it quick. I'm needed by the High Table in a moment for a meeting." Accepting her envious hand, she led them back into the bedroom and headed for her dressing table to find another ribbon for her daughter.
While Viviana followed suit, climbing onto the stool before the mirror, Morana froze in the doorway.
The memory she had settled into refused to continue, flashing between gentle rays of the setting sun and darkness with blood splattered across every surface.
Instead of the giggles of the young girl getting her hair brushed, complaining because the bristles tickled, a corpse lay in front of the bed.
Lifeless and slick with crimson as a perfect hole had formed in her neck.
No fear was present in her glassy eyes, only sorrow.
"Are you okay, bone girl?" Damian removed his hand from her mouth, yet that didn't make it any easier to breathe.
Cursed. A deep voice hissed into Morana's ear. The Gods have cursed you.
"They're gone now, Morana." A warm hand rubbed up and down her arm, caressing the purple ribbon tattooed along it, in comfort.
Her necklace pulled against her neck, straining to get free and escape the memories of that night with desperate fervour.
You were never part of this family, you monster.
The chain snapped, releasing the fleeing gemstone.
It soared toward the Fireborn, aimed for his throat.
As he leaned forward to push on the cabinet door, the sharp end missed piercing anything vital, leaving only a streak of red in its wake.
If he had moved any later, Damian would be dead.
"I'm sorry." Her voice shook more than she would have liked. "I- I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry."
"Princess Ilyana is your twin." He placed the cogs of information together in his mind, spinning them together to reach the final conclusion.
"She is." Morana tugged her necklace out of the wood and shoved it into one of the pouches on her belt. Pulling the drawstrings as tight as she could, she made sure it wouldn't see the light of day until her magic was ready to think about what it had almost done.
The Fireborn pulled her into his chest and locked her into an embrace.
It was uncomfortable at first with her arms trapped at her sides and her head secured underneath his chin.
Morana hadn't received a hug in so long that she had no clue how to respond.
However, after a moment, she freed her arms and returned the gesture, letting her tears out in a place where nobody could see them.
Between the constant thudding of Damian's heart and the rise and fall of his chest, the soothing rhythms calmed the necromancer's panic — a bright flame pushing the darkness back to where it belonged.
"I don't know what happened between you two to make you that scared, but it's okay. It won't happen again." He reached for the end of her purple braid as he spoke, curling it around his finger. "I'm here for you and always will be while I can."
Morana laughed at his contradicting comfort. He would always be there for her and yet he wouldn't. The fool couldn't even get that right.
"There's the annoying laugh that I'm going to end up getting sick of."
"You could never." She shoved the Fireborn away.
When she got a glance of the dribbling wound on his throat, she quickly turned away.
Damian shouldn't be pulling her close after she had almost taken his life from him.
"I'm sorry about nearly killing you. I really didn't mean to do that.
This necklace has a mind of its own sometimes. "
Damian brushed away the blood trickling down his neck, peering at the crimson staining his fingers and then wiping it on his trousers. "This is tame compared to what I'm used to. You're forgiven, bone girl."
The assassin's heart stopped. Nobody had ever pardoned her mistakes before.
Whenever she failed, it either ended in a verbal lashing, a quick effort to abandon her, or with the tip of a blade plunged beneath her skin.
There was never an in-between, nor was there a hint of forgiveness lurking in those consequences.
She had almost forgotten what it had felt like.
Morana pulled the hood of her cloak over her head to hide the heat that crept onto her cheeks. "Let's get out of here."