Chapter 22 #2
Lykor yanked his hand away when she bit him. “Don’t say his name, you shaman spawn.” He seized her leathers, shaking her instead of wringing her neck like he would’ve preferred. “Do you want to fucking die?”
The girl’s nostrils flared, her defiance obviously coalescing. “You’re going to kill me anyway, so what does the timing matter?”
“One way or another, you’re telling me everything you know about the Heart. It’s your choice on how much you’d like to endure first.” She shrank back when Lykor elongated his fangs.
Stop scaring her. Aesar scolded, rising to resume his pacing across the library.
“Answer me or I’ll start peeling layers off your eyeballs with rending.” A bluff since Aesar still had that portion of their Well locked away. But the elf didn’t know that.
Do you have to be so needlessly graphic?
Lykor sensed Aesar poised to spring, undoubtedly ready to throw his full strength against him and battle for control if Lykor went any further than intimidation.
Regardless, Lykor flared Essence. The unformed magic glittered like the gold in the stones, billowing around the chamber. The elf stiffened, plastering herself against the wall before her eyes darted to the torches.
Lykor flashed his canines. “Try it,” he taunted, fists tightening against her leathers. “I’ll play with your fire.”
“The Heart spoke to me,” she said quickly, apparently thinking better of any more rebellion.
The way she claimed something so asinine dragged an incredulous laugh out of Lykor’s throat. She yanked her shredded armor straight when he released her.
“What did the Heart say, then?” Lykor sarcastically mocked. He placated Aesar by releasing his magic before that meddler got any ideas about wrestling their entire Well away. “And don’t bother wasting your breath if you’re going to say something even more ridiculous.”
She faltered, teeth dragging over her lip. “I—I don’t remember.”
Lykor snorted. “How convenient.”
“I’m not lying.” The elf straightened, glaring up at him with those unnerving eyes. “Let me hold the relic without this tether and I’ll prove it to you.”
A wave of uncertainty had Lykor flashing his attention to Aesar before he thought better of seeking his advice. THIS COULD BE HER ATTEMPT AT MANIPULATING ME INTO TAKING OFF THAT MANACLE.
Aesar shrugged, apparently not seeing any harm. Obviously, he was more trusting since she had some type of association with his twin. She doesn’t seem to know any more than we do about the Hearts’ role in shackling the dragons.
Cracking the aggravation out of his neck, Lykor entertained the notion. The girl’s claim was too bizarre to be a jest. If she was foolish enough to summon her power, he’d finish ripping the talents from her Well and rid himself of this bond’s affliction.
Lykor drew out his key and the Heart of Stars from his trouser pocket. He extended the gleaming crystal, dropping the relic into her palms. Seizing her wrist, he unlocked the shackle, letting the metal clatter to the floor.
Unable to barricade from the bond, Lykor braced himself as her awareness flooded into his. The connection’s blazing silver cord circled the surface of his Well—threatening like a noose.
Gritting his fangs, Lykor exhaled through his nose before residual dread strangled him.
He shoved down memories of the king hacking away the natural defenses of his mind, hoping the elf was too oblivious to take advantage of his vulnerability.
Lykor readied himself to react if she ignited her magic.
Frowning, the elf studied the artifact glowing with her talents. Lykor almost thought she wasn’t going to speak until she went rigid, her attention fixed on the Heart. The girl’s words suddenly flowed out in a rush.
Greetings, young draka, hear our plight,
New hatchlings from earth and starlight.
From distant galaxies did the whelps arrive,
They stole our magic and left us deprived.
They used five Hearts to bind our power in chains:
Earth, Fire, Lightning, Wind, and Rain.
The balance of earth, it must be restored,
The Hearts must be returned to where they were forged.
But the Hearts were hidden by the thieving hands,
The cunning ones from otherworldly lands.
Bring us the Hearts so we can restore,
The harmony as we had before the war.
Young draka, heed our call,
For this balance of nature affects us all.
With a shuddering breath, she snapped out of the trance, meeting his gaze. Silence filled the chamber.
Confusion, then realization, punched through Lykor as he and Aesar processed the spewed words. He glanced inward to see Aesar standing motionless, framed by Kyansari’s glass spires.
The dragons are still alive, Aesar said, shaking his head in disbelief. Or at least an echo of their memory persists.
Lykor was more concerned about what was in front of them than the speculation about those beasts. IF THERE ARE ONLY FIVE HEARTS, WHY THE FUCK WOULD GALAERYN LET ONE OUT OF HIS SIGHT?
Aesar ran his fingers through his silvery hair, talking to himself before including Lykor in his musings.
Maybe she can help locate the Heart within the keep—if one’s here.
Lykor sensed him diving into old memories, sifting through any forgotten information that would further explain those uttered words.
Lykor snatched the Heart from the girl and tucked it away. Snagging the manacle from the floor, he clasped it back around her wrist before she could vocalize a protest. IF WE COLLECT MORE RELICS, DO YOU AGREE WITH SEARCHING FOR THE DRAGONS ACROSS THE WASTES?
I see no other option. Aesar flicked his fingers, summoning a tome to his hand.
Assuming the king doesn’t already possess all of the Hearts, we have to try locating more before we run out of time.
We at least have one to return to the dragons.
Aesar tucked the book under his arm before drawing himself to his full height—a show of his stubbornness fossilizing.
Anyway, about the girl. You’re not keeping her in the dungeons.
Lykor rubbed his forehead. That was exactly what he’d intended. THEN WHAT DO I DO WITH HER?
A muscle twitched in Aesar’s cheek. You turned this into a mess and it didn’t have to be. He spun on a heel, retreating deeper into the library. Clean it up.
LIKE IT’S MY FAULT SHE’S HERE, Lykor grumbled.
Aesar’s words were clipped. Figure it out. I’m going to think. He fabricated a door to stars knew where and disappeared, slamming it behind him.
Lykor released a breath. Before he could run through his options, the ground beneath his boots began quaking, like a flight of dracovae charged nearby.
“What are you doing now?” Lykor demanded, ready to shake the elf into submission. Though he had no idea how to stifle elemental power beyond clubbing her over the head.
She stumbled, losing her balance as the chamber rattled and rumbled. “This isn’t me!” Her eyes widened as the thundering became more violent.
Fissures raced across the ceiling, dumping rocky debris in a hailstorm of dust and pebbles. Stones from the walls fractured and crashed around them, raining down rubble. Lykor fought to keep his footing while the earth shuddered.
As the prison caved in, Aesar dashed back into his library mindspace, assessing through their eyes.
Reacting, Aesar shoved his awareness fully into their body, like how he would when they brawled for control.
An eerie tingle prickled under Lykor’s skin, his limbs going numb as Aesar rooted himself into place.
There wasn’t a second to think, much less have an endless debate about what they should do. It was either be crushed to death by the volcano or allow Aesar to take over.
For the first time, Lykor willingly let go.
He relinquished his influence without a fight, permitting Aesar unfettered access to their body’s motions and their Well. Aesar had always been quick with fabricating shields—a skill that Lykor had never bothered with. Violet light spilled from their fingertips as the chamber crumbled around them.
But even Aesar was too slow.
Something heavy struck their head. The world tilted, pitching to black.