46 || Bygone Sister
Ilyana should have been the one to go after her sister. Viviana was the only family she had left and she needed to know she was okay. If it weren't for the captain at her heels with a phantom tether keeping her in place and out of danger, she would have rushed to her side along with Prince Damian.
By the way the Fireborn ran, she could tell her truly loved her. The way he fled faster than anyone she had ever seen, the way he evaded his brother's vice grip that attempted to capture his arm. The way he charged down the hall like there was nobody else in the world who existed.
"Bastard," King Matthian muttered under his breath, not intending for anyone to hear, before turning to Ilyana. "Queen Ilyana?" He raised a singular brow. "It seems there is a lot I need to catch up on."
"King Matthian," Clove greeted in a warning tone. "It's advised you stay in one room or area right now until the royal guard determines it's safe to venture out."
"I can handle myself, thank you." The king rolled his eyes. "I assume the meeting went poorly. I would have liked to listen in too but, as you saw, I was unfortunately occupied with other matters."
Holding her trembling hands behind her back, Ilyana met his inquisitive glare. "My father has passed away, which means I am the acting lead of the kingdom until I am coronated." There wasn't time to mourn her family right now. She needed to be the ruler the island needed.
"I'm sorry for your loss. Truly." Something softened in his expression, the hunger for knowledge and power fading for a brief moment. "You look worse for wear too, captain. Was it Morana?"
"These matters don't concern you, Your Highness. Now, if you'll excuse us." With a simple dismissal, Clove tugged Ilyana back into the lounge.
However, before she could shut the door, a shaking spread throughout the castle like a spell unleashed from an ancient rune. Furniture rattled and uprooted from their places. Ornaments on shelves shuddered and crashed to the ground, shattering into unmendable pieces.
The captain pulled Ilyana into her chest to shield her from anything that could have fallen on top of her. Only when it stopped did she release her from her protective hold.
"What in the Gods' names was that?" the queen questioned.
"I have no idea." Clove surveyed the damage around them, frowning at the windows with stretching cracks in their panes.
"It felt like it came from below us," King Matthian guessed.
Ilyana could only swallow her nervousness. Wyrith wasn't known to have any worldly tremors like other continents were, so it couldn't have been that. A coiling dread in the pit of her stomach told her it was something more — something dark that lingered on the surface of her magic.
She peered down and summoned it to the surface of her skin, her fingertips turning blue with her power with ease. What could it have been?
"My sister." Ilyana's gaze raced up, her eyes wide. "I have to check and make sure she's okay."
Clove secured her shoulder before she could bolt off. "She's fine. You need to stay where it's safe," she urged. "Prince Damian has gone to check on her, so there's no need to worry."
The queen shook her head. "No, something is wrong. I can feel it." The longer she waited, the heavier the pressure became on her magic — an enveloping blanket melding into sheets of steel.
"And you are the last sane royal alive. If we lose you, this island has no one," the captain warned.
"Are you ordering your queen around, captain?" King Matthian lingered in the doorway, his arms crossed as he watched the events unfold. "I would say that's a cause for punishment."
"Perhaps if you were in charge, but you aren't," Ilyana countered with narrowed eyes.
He did have an unfortunate point, though. She was now the Queen of Wyrith. No longer could Clove wield the fact that her orders came from her father, the king — someone of a higher rank than her. She was the monarch now, whether she wanted to be or not.
"I will be visiting my sister, and that's final," she decided.
"She won't hurt me, I know it." The captain opened her mouth to talk, but Ilyana cut her off.
"And you will wait at the top of the dungeons.
We can't have a repeat of what happened last time when you ran her through with your sword. Is that clear?"
Clove's gaze shook, unsure of the person in front of her. "Yes, Your Highness," she replied with a dipped head.
After the Fireborn King removed himself from the doorway, Ilyana left and followed in Damian's footsteps in the dungeons.
The halls of the castle were empty, void of the guests she was meant to entertain in the ballroom that evening.
A flock of guards crowded outside of the stairwell leading down into the depths of time-worn stone and they bowed as she approached.
"Give me the keys to the prisoner's cell," she commanded, her new status making them freeze in place. It was only when they turned to their captain for reassurance, who gave them an uncertain nod, that they did so, removing the sole key from the rusted hoop of several.
Clove did as she was ordered, waiting at the top of the stairs with her blade in hand. "Yell if you need me. I'll be there as soon as I can," she whispered for only her to hear as Ilyana descended the stairs.
The Celnaer dungeons were clad in darkness, the steps beneath her feet becoming progressively more difficult to make out.
A long-forsaken, metallic scent guided Ilyana deeper, a hint of mildew following suit.
In the distance, a strange sound emerged — something that she couldn't quite place her finger on.
It was human, yet twisted in an unnatural way.
"Vivi?" the queen called out and metal chimed in response.
"Illy? Illy, please help," her twin begged. The sorrow staining her voice made Ilyana run towards her, desperate to save her from harm.
The necromancer was kneeling on the ground, cradling fistfuls of grey in her hands. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders, a crown of death-kissed strands curling to cup her face, and tears of black soiled her cheeks, remnants of the shadows that had once bubbled there.
"You need to heal Damian. Please." Her words were broken, lilted with despair. "It wasn't meant to happen, but my necklace-"
Ilyana found the twin gemstone to her own strewn across the other side of the dungeon with blood smattered across it. She didn't need to ask, she already knew what had happened. Viviana had killed him, just like how she said she had killed their mother.
Prince Damian was dead.
Crouching beside her and the pile of ash, she could only shake her head. "There's nothing for me to heal him with."
Despite it all, she tried, reaching out for the Fireborn's remains with her magic.
As she suspected, there weren't any life threads for her to even start weaving him back together.
Nor would she know how to even if there were.
Reconstructing an eye was one thing, but a whole person would be too much for her power to handle.
"I- I can't," Ilyana confessed. "How did this even happen?"
Viviana's fingers released the ashes she held, the last fragment of hope breaking away. "There was a queen, one of the twins who made the Necromancer's Curse and ruled before us. She wanted to kill him using it and I tried to stop her, but..."
"Oh, Vivi." The story her sister had revealed seemed unfathomable. How could someone so ancient be back from the dead? Yet, she believed her. Ilyana believed every word she said.
Inserting the key into the lock on her cell door, she pulled the metal open and rushed to her twin's side.
She stepped over the ashes, making sure her dress didn't disturb the prince's final resting place and pulled Viviana into her arms. She knew what it was like to be surrounded by death and guilt and endless pain.
If there was anything she could do to stop her sister from going through it too, she would do it.
"Stop calling me that." The necromancer shoved her away, backing up into a wall of stone.
"That's not my name anymore — it's Morana.
Viviana drowned in the Molten Sea a very long time ago.
" Picking up the shirt the Fireborn had worn, she scooped as many ashes as she could into it, forming a makeshift sling bag that she held close to her chest.
"What are you doing?" Ilyana ignored the sting of rejection and the tears filling her eyes.
"I can't stay here." Morana's eyes were crazed, glancing in every direction as if something was watching and waiting. "I don't want to end up killing you, too. It happens to everyone who gets close to me, and I won't let it happen again." She secured her necklace in a pocket, burying it from sight.
The queen got to her feet, inching closer as if she were a wild animal who could be frightened by any movement. "Wait, you can't just leave!" She couldn't, not after everything that had just happened. She needed her sister, her twin, her other half by her side.
Ilyana needed her family.
"Goodbye, Ilyana." The necromancer backed away a few steps, as if taking in the last, final glimpses she would ever get of her sister, before she turned and fled.