46. Astraea
Chapter forty-six
Astraea
The breath I hold prisoner is violently ripped from my lungs as I hit the heated ground hard square on my back.
Coughing and sputtering, my eyes fly open, desperate to know where I’ve come out on the other side of the portal.
I don’t get a chance to see where I am, though, because the moment they open, I am forced to squeeze them shut again.
Bringing my arm up protectively in a feeble attempt to block my face, I curl in on myself as black sand whirls through the air and rains down on me from the abrupt landing.
Rolling to my side with a groan, I try to pull in a shaky breath and crawl to my hands and knees.
The sand cuts into my palms as I dig my fingers in and try to steady myself.
My head is spinning, and nausea makes my mouth water, threatening to bring up the food Cole had coerced me into eating too much of earlier today.
Gritting my teeth, I finally lift my head and slowly open my eyes.
My jaw falls slack and my heart plummets into my stomach like a heavy stone as I now see what’s in front of me.
Rolling hills of black sand span out as far as the eye can see, and in the center of it all, I sit on my knees, alone.
Kyros had told me to portal somewhere he would not think to find me…
but my knowledge of the world is very limited, and everywhere that I have actually been outside of the palace has been with him.
But this? Yea, he would not think I would end up here.
As I gaze around the vast expanse of black desert, I can’t help but notice the quietness around me, and a worrying thought begins to form. Where is everyone else?
A strong gust of wind blows the fine particles of sand across the top of the dunes, and I have to protect my face with my arm again.
When the hot air finally settles, I allow the reality of my surroundings—of my dire situation—finally to sink in.
This place is overwhelmingly void of any life.
Though I can’t yet be certain, I believe I’ve portaled myself to the Dead Sea.
I’m not even sure if there could be a settlement close by.
It’s more likely that I will come across a horde of traveling dune pirates.
The Scylia are the ones that mostly inhabit the Dead Sea.
There are also stories of creatures that are much more feared, even more so than the Cerkin.
Though, I think I would be better off coming across any one of the mythical beasts over a Scylia pirate.
Men can be more brutal in their killings and the time leading up to death.
A chill crawls down my spine at the thought, but I refuse to sit here idly.
I need to do something. Either I need to try to harness the magick that I clearly know hardly anything about or get up and start walking.
Why are the others not here? I grind my teeth as I think.
Think harder, Astraea. I know I’m not equipped for traversing the desert.
I’m wearing a damn dress for divine sake.
Lifting the fabric of the skirt, I let out a heavy sigh and run my fingers along the blades at my ribs.
I do have my two daggers, but no other supplies could help me survive out here.
Thank the divine for their lovely sense of humor when mapping out my life.
At least the sun isn’t raging on the horizon, saving me from its wrath of blazing rays, but night brings its own dangers.
And if I make it to tomorrow, what then?
Once the sun beats down on me, it’s only a matter of time before I succumb to its heat…
Even without the threat of it looming overhead, there is always the chance a sandstorm could strike at any moment.
If I am hit with one of those, no matter the time of day, I will undoubtedly join the others who have been put in early graves below these very sands.
There is a reason this place is called the Dead Sea after all.
Crawling back to my feet, I lift my hands and push them toward the darker horizon.
Focusing on my magick, I roll my wrists, flexing my hands into fists.
Then I flatten my palms, feeling the shadows urge to extend, to render a portal, or conjure that dark flame again.
It comes easily, and I narrow my eyes on my magick.
The final images I saw before stepping through the portal replay in my mind.
The dark and sinister magick I brought to life and cast out in Diemos…
It makes it hard to swallow. Most of the people had already run from the throne room by the time I left it to burn, but I can’t say for certain that everyone survived the blaze.
I have no clue how I even conjured so much of that flame.
But to see that look of fear in Phaedra’s eyes, I would do it all over again.
I would do it a thousand times over. Just the thought sends my already aching heart to pound harder in its confines.
My teeth grind as I close my eyes, tamping down the pull I feel in my chest as that flame tries to grow even from this lack of control I feel over my mind.
I have to force myself to focus and to think. What do I do now?
I thought after using all that magick, the dark marks on my forearms would barely move on my skin, but it’s just the opposite.
They taunt me with their movement; I’ve never felt their presence as much as I do right now.
Kyros had said that sometimes, when he expelled a lot, it would need time to regenerate.
It was my first time ever using so much of my magick.
So why do I feel as though I have nothing to replenish?
If anything, I feel a sort of urgency charging along my skin.
My gaze lifts back on the dark horizon. It appears as though the earth is radiating this deep blue light, back-lighting the large mounds of dark sand with an otherworldly glow. Beauty has never looked so deadly. I have to move. I have to pick a direction and hope that it’s the way I am supposed to—
Movement in the distance—darkened silhouettes of people—makes me drop to my knees and flatten out on the still hot sand.
It’s not quite scalding on my skin, but the heat is nothing compared to what might happen if I am spotted by Scylia pirates.
Who knows if there is a bounty out on me already…
The wind blows again, making the unrelenting fine particles of sand feel like tiny blades across my exposed skin and thin dress.
If I stay here, I may as well just bury myself now because I am dead one way or another.
Shaking my head at the thought, I scan my bleak surroundings and prepare myself to jump to my feet for a fight.
For the first time in my life, I am truly alone.
I am the one carving my own path through this sand.
Even as the thought comes to my mind, I reject it.
I may have always wanted to make my own choices in life, but that was before Kyros and the family I realize are worth keeping close. I no longer want to be alone.
Burrowing myself into the sand, I am grateful for the dark color of the dress Kyros picked, even if it is not suitable for this situation I’m in…
At least the black fabric creates somewhat of a camouflage in the dark sand.
As the group gets closer, I can start to hear bits and pieces of their muffled conversation.
I can piece together enough to know that they are looking for something.
It’s more than likely a someone, and that someone is almost certainly me.
Trying to make my body as small as I can, my breaths are tiny and threatening lightheadedness.
I can feel my heart hammering with anticipation for what may come.
Seconds feel like hours as I continue to wait in the sand like a scorpion awaiting its prey, but just as I’m about to leap to my feet, I hear a voice clearer this time.
“Are you sure you saw her?” A distinctly male voice says, though still muffled, likely covered by a shemagh. Then I hear the next voice, and my heart freezes despite the heat that is still radiating from the earth beneath me.
“I know I saw her. You don’t have to doubt every—” My world begins to spin again, and I leap from the sand.
I scramble toward them as each one of them pulls weapons and shouts curses in my direction.
But I couldn’t care less. With relieved tears burning my dry eyes, I lunge toward the voice that I know, without a shadow of a doubt, belongs to my best friend.
“Cole!” I cry out as I sprint, drudging through the sand as fast as I can.
Her polished copper hair fans out as she spins to face the sound of my shrieking.
Our eyes lock right before I crash into her, and we both fall to the ground.
A choked sob breaks from my chest as I cling to her so tightly that I can hear the air escape from her.
Despite never wanting to let her go, I finally peel myself off of her.
She brushes my hair out of my face with a sad, tear-filled smile.
“I’m here.” She says breathlessly, looking up as the shadows of the others descend on us.
“We’re all here.” Mavros says somberly, looking down at Zinya, where she’s still unconscious in his arms. Ruaan and Rowan flank Shayd, and warmth spreads through me as the last of the faces come into view. Kellan and Beckett are there too, the latter giving a sideways smirk when he sees me.
“Well, not all of us.” I acknowledge, allowing Kellan to help me to my feet, and as I do, everyone in the group exchanges a sad sort of understanding glance.
“But we will be.” I add sternly. It’s a promise, to myself and to them.
We will get Kyros back. And for the first time since I’ve been reunited with Mavros, I see the light that has always been in his eyes reignite as he hears that comment.