Chapter 58
It was like air and breathing. Cool water in the heat. A lover’s kiss amidst down feathers.
Lunara had never known true ease. Had never known herself.
Until now.
Gleaming below the hollow of her collar bones, it was like Illamiata was always and only meant to be hers.
Like it had been waiting since the creation of the world to be nestled there.
The hum of it was a song in her bones she hadn’t known how to sing before.
A chorus that drowned out every twinge and ache and swell. Silenced every weakness. And the power?
It was consuming, and it was hers.
“Weeping, fucking shite.” Magnus stood stock-still before her, his eyes wide as saucers.
Araxis appeared at her side, gripping her elbow as her feet touched down. “Behold, the blessed Keeper of Illamiata. You did well, Lunara. Very well.”
Had she ever even felt the floor before? Had her nerves ever fired thus, sending every sensation as they should?
No. Never. And it’s glorious.
Yes. Glorious to feel not just the coolness of the stone beneath her bare soles as she took her first steps, but every worn crack and crevice. Every tiny hole. Every thrum of the energy it had to offer.
“Are you alright, witchling?”
Her laugh tinkled in a manner she’d never heard, delighting her. “In some ways, I feel as though I have never been well until this moment.” Stars above, was that her voice, trilling and warbling like a flock of songbirds?
Yes, you have. With him, you were more than well—you were perfect. Else, what was it all for?
She was right, of course, and a blanket of melancholy tempered the heights of her exhilaration.
Brand. He, his love, was the only thing better than this.
She wanted him back.
Then you need to come back.
A blink, and she centered. A breath, and she settled into corporeality. Into a freshened mind and body that finally knew who it was and what it wanted.
“Thank fuck.” Magnus sagged, cheeks puffing as he loosed a forceful sigh. “There you are. I was worried you were going to be eldritch forever.”
Lunara recoiled. “Eldritch?”
“Aye, everything was glowy and shite. Silvered. Even your hair. And that smile? Ominous as fuck.” He shuddered, even as he smirked at her. “It wasn’t right.”
She shoved her hand in his face, pushing it away. “Mangy arsehole.”
“Aye, most of the time.” He laughed, batting at her arm. “You’re fine, though? Truly?”
There was a spark of worry in his golden stare that pulled at her heartstrings. “I’m…” It was her turn to exhale, melting a bit. “Let’s agree to never do this again.”
She practically fell over when Araxis chuckled.
“As warming as this is,” Cordelia piped in, still sitting in her same spot on the rounded bench, “you’ve only got minutes before half the Evesong comes barreling up here, Moonweaver.”
“Aye, it was quite the spectacular light show you put on, witchling.”
“She’s right,” Thaddeus said, head tilted towards the stairs. “I can hear them already.”
Shite.
Darting a frantic look around, she spotted Fern, perched on the pedestal where Illamiata had been resting like she owned the place. “Where are Amunkar and Amal? Vann?”
“Our future Emperor said he would know when to find us later, whatever the fuck that means. Likewise, Vann said there was something he needed to do before he met us back in the Montrealm. Again, cryptic and meaningless.”
Lunara didn’t have time for the small twist of disappointment in her gut. She’d done what she came to do, and the Tear Stone was hers.
It was time to find her mate.
Murmurs started up from the stairwell, growing louder. The way was long and winding, so they had a few minutes yet, but they were trapped.
“Calm.” Araxis rounded her, his hand on her shoulder. “You already know what to do.”
Leave finding out how in the arsing realms he knew what you were thinking for later.
Right.
“I don’t.” She squared her shoulders. “Tell me.”
“We’re going to mist, obviously.”
It’s fine. You’re fine.
For the first time, those four words uplifted and encouraged, instead of being bitten-out with underlying impatience. For the first time, she believed them.
“Show me.”
“Reach your power out and latch on to mine. I will carry us this first time. Pay attention. It should come to you fairly naturally if you let yourself feel it.” He gripped her hand and gestured for Magnus and Thaddeus to come closer.
“We were born for this, Lunara. Use that knowledge to your advantage.”
She did as he said, sending out her threads—and had to stifle a grimace when the magic swept out and away from her and actually slammed into him, rocking his body backwards.
Araxis grunted, but gave no other sign he was offended by her lack of control. “Think of it like there’s ten of you now, and adjust.”
She nodded and pulled some of it back, the invisible particles surrounding them greeting one another like long-lost friends.
“More like a thousand,” Cordelia murmured, “but who’s counting?”
Lunara chewed the inside of her cheek and retracted even more of her power, one ear on the advancing racket. “Are you coming with us?”
It was odd to find herself hoping the answer would be yes. That they might have more time to mend the rift between them.
“I am not.” Cordelia looked away, out over the sparkling city. “Someone has to make excuses and smooth ruffled feathers. Might as well be me.”
“Then… I will see you soon.”
Her eyes glittered. “Yes, Moonweaver. You will.”
With a pointed look at Fern, who hopped down and wrapped an arm around Lunara’s waist, they were ready.
She was ready.
“Remember”—Araxis’s fingers tightened around hers—“let yourself feel it.”
The smallest parts of themselves began to vibrate, shimmying into the space between.
Into the invisible pockets and thoroughfares of the ether’s expanse.
She sensed Araxis’s control over their particles, his steadfast hold.
Sensed the moment he chose their destination, and held the vision in her own mind.
And, as they leapt away to travel the ancient, teeming pathways…
Stars above. She felt it.
In the end, it was too much.
The constant begging and screaming and sobbing in his ears. The agony between bouts of blackened nightmare. The frailty preventing him from snapping his chains. The snippets of memory that wrenched up stinging bile before they were buried again.
The certainty it was all his fault.
She’d promised to make it all disappear if he was good. If he just did this one, little thing.
He’d held on for as long as he could—right up until she’d come to dance over him, chanting ancient songs, the razored darkness sawing something vital from within him and taking its place.
The loss of that intangible thing had hurt worse than any of the physical pain.
By the time he saw her again, he was nothing. No one.
So, he gave in.
The shame would have to haunt him later, for all it hadn’t really felt like a choice.
At first, he hadn’t been able to hold himself upright or take more than a few stumbling steps before collapsing again. She’d been confused, unhappy about the extra days. Or weeks, maybe? It was so hard to tell, but he was here now.
Feeling Solyrian for the first time since he could remember was almost worth his weakness. He might’ve laughed if he could remember how. Heard the birds and felt the wind. Thrown his arms out and plopped back into the grass to take it all in.
But he couldn’t, and he didn’t.
Instead, he stepped up to the void and looked across the chasm, at the Ghostwood looming just beyond the opposite edge, and grabbed onto the land with his power.
Bring it together. Close it up. That was all he had to do for her to cease the incessant torment. She’d keep him safe until then.
The earth rumbled beneath his feet, rock cracking and dirt crumbling. Beads of sweat dotted his brow and trickled down his back, his muscles straining as he brought himself right up to the limit of his considerable abilities.
A roar ripped free of his lungs as he pulled and pulled, the gap slowly shrinking. Shouts sounded in the distance, shapes drawing closer, but he ignored all in favor of his task.
Bring it together. Close it up. Make it go away.
Something elemental thrashed within, fighting from behind invisible bars. He felt its warnings, its rage. Wanted to embrace that inner being, but he couldn’t. Not anymore, no matter how hard he tried. Not unless he did this one thing. Not unless he was good.
The world shook with a cataclysmic shudder and the Ghostbor Dread Chasm was no more.
He turned his face to the sky and sunstar, allowed only a single, deep breath before the shadows engulfed him and whisked him away.
Soon. He’d be back with them soon.
The smell of burnt roses preceded her voice raking over him. “You’ve done so very well, my darling boy,” she crooned, running a hand over his hair as he laid down, exhausted from his labors.
He still didn’t understand why she kept calling him that. Who she was meant to be to him.
When the shackles closed around him once again, he didn’t bother with his usual threats. Didn’t fight or scream obscenities. Didn’t notice it was too quiet. That he couldn’t hear her anymore.
“Sleep. You’ve earned it. We still have a few more things to do, my love.”
He had no idea why a knowing smirk would try to twist his lips, but he fought against it and the unbidden closing of his lids. There was something wrong with her words.
“A few… more things?” The sound that left him could hardly be called a voice.
“Oh, sweet.” She bent down and kissed his brow. “You didn’t think closing the chasm was it, did you?”
But he’d been good.
Hadn’t he?
“No. No!” Why was he laughing? “I was good! I was good!”
Thrashing, he ignored the horror contorting her face and blinked, trying to stave off the dark spots crowding his vision.
He had to get back. Had… to…
The great hall was full to bursting, countless Demons already in their rage and gathering from every direction.