Chapter 78 #2
“You know what you’re doing?” Doubt dances among her words.
“As much as I can,” I admit to both her and myself.
She nods, as do I. Yet we linger. We steep in the words unsaid and the weight of a prophecy I already know I don’t want to understand. That I’m already trying to figure out how I can avert. Still, neither of us speaks.
Finally, and without another word, I grab the supplies we need and we leave together.
Arcana Academy is already falling into chaos.
Shouts echo down to us from the upper wings of the academy where students reside well before we reach them.
Faculty and staff bark orders, trying to regain control.
But the students have minds of their own.
A few third years are leading small packs of students—no doubt those with family on the outside who had the power to use the Queen of Swords to communicate in.
The chaotic din of fighting grows louder both inside and outside the academy.
Some students aren’t submitting peacefully.
“Kaelis has gone mad!”
“Do not trust the headmaster! He will see us die in here!”
Someone screams. Glass shatters. I whip my head toward the sound, but Arina yanks my hand. “We keep going.”
We won’t be on these upper passages for long.
But it’s too long.
At the far end of the passage we turn down, just beyond the library, is a group of students.
“Kill them all! Kill the bastards who’d side with Clara Graysword—all of the lower filth.”
“Come at me, then!” an already bruised and split-lipped Sorza challenges.
Arina knows that we’re going to help before I make a quick turn in Sorza’s direction. Sorza is good, but she’s not going to out-wield a group of five third years.
Let’s make this a little more even.
I cast a Three of Swords, distracting the most immediate attacker.
At the same time, Arina uses the Five of Coins to remove part of a pedestal underneath a statue nearby.
The statue comes toppling down on one of them.
Sorza barely glances our way before taking the opening, stabbing at a third attacker with a curved dagger.
I turn my attention to the fourth. We’re fast, but not fast enough.
A burst of flame collides with her side, faster than Sorza can dodge. Fire explodes along her ribs, setting her heavy robes ablaze. She throws them off, her shirt underneath singed and hanging on one side.
The man moves to cast another card, but a flash of magic from a new individual has his head hanging by a strip of skin.
He crumples, and the rest of them scatter with panicked screams. They didn’t fully realize the bloodshed they were inviting.
I glance toward the caster, Vaduin, and let out a sigh of relief before kneeling by Sorza’s side.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Sorza says with a groan. “I can fix it myself with a Four of Swords.”
“Where’s Thal?” Arina asks her.
“They’re protecting first years.”
“They would be,” Arina murmurs. The way she says it doesn’t suggest we’re about to go looking for them.
“Let me help.” Vaduin kneels at Sorza’s other side, giving me a sharp look. “You should be halfway to the font of the World by now.”
I don’t argue as Vaduin reaches for a card. He places a Queen of Cups directly upon Sorza’s gnarled and burnt flesh. But pauses. I see the way his eyes catch on a part of the wound.
“I’m not sure if I can heal this,” Vaduin murmurs.
“That mark? I’ve always had it.” Sorza shrugs. “Weird looking, right?”
I don’t miss the way Vaduin freezes. The way his grip on his card tightens for just a second before casting. Then his eyes flick to mine. “You two, go.”
We do. We head first to my room, managing to avoid the passages we hear shouting echoing up from, the sizzle of magic alive in the air around us.
I grab the golden Death and then find a pathway that shortcuts to Kaelis’s apartments.
I grab the other gold cards from underneath the cushion Priss favors most on the settee we shared, and then Arina and I run, deeper and deeper.
We burst into the cavern where the font of the World resides, our breathing ragged and sides aching. But we don’t stop. We cross to the base of the great statue, I lay out the supplies, and only then do I pause to collect myself, pushing strands of hair from my face.
“Are you ready?”
She nods, and we pick up pens at the same time.
My sister and I move in unison, dipping the tips of the pens into the water at the base of the statue. I press the pen tip to my card at the same time as her. Then we diverge.
I move through the room, around the statue, inking across the floor. I draw lines of raw power through the air. The academy itself is one massive card, every spire and line connecting. And this—much like the vessel card itself—is its center. Everything connects here.
Meanwhile, Arina sketches swirling constellations across the top of her card. She draws a frame worthy of Mother’s praise. She moves with me, and it is as though our power dances around each other, feeding off each other, growing.
The room is luminous with the glittering strands of magic that hold the vessel card hovering in place before the statue. A web of past and present, of future. A portrait of Mother’s greatest work.
As the ink dries on Arina’s card, I reach for the vessel. Magic breaks apart into crystalline fragments as I tear it free. Her card turns golden.
She holds it out, and my heart squeezes. This is it. I reach to grab it, but then…
A violent streak of light cuts through the darkness of this cavernous room like a shooting star crashing to earth. We both turn, hearts pounding in our throats, frozen in place as the light takes the shape of a chariot that fades to reveal four figures.
One cowled individual I know to be a Major from his clothing—Judgment, probably, the Major who can revive people from death itself if he’s fast enough. Ravin is next to him. Then Cael, the Emperor, of all people. And finally, King Naethor himself.
Naethor’s eyes lock with mine, and a cruel smile cuts his mouth. “Thank you, Clara, for finally delivering me the World. Now I can finish what I started.”