2
Kora
Falling.
Falling through the air—no, the sky.
Laughter bubbled out of her, the sound escaping her lips and carrying on the current of the winds.
She was so free. So . . . alive.
She smiled up at the bright, cobalt, and lavender endless sky. Little tufts of pearlescent clouds drifted around her, and she reached out, gently brushing through the puffs, beads of water clinging to her golden skin. She twirled her fingers, weaving them through the sky as she soared.
Soared downwards, to the glimmering azure ocean.
She was not afraid.
As she approached the welcoming sea, she exhaled an elated sigh, bringing her hands above her flowing, long hair, shimmering like moonlight.
Following the curving sweep of her arms, a thick stream of warm ocean water rushed out to greet her. It swept under her body, cascading around her, wrapping around her curves until she floated above the surface of fathomless blue.
A gust of briny wind ruffled her hair and she smiled, sensing a presence behind her. She whipped her hand up, palm extended out, sending a blast of water at Raiden. His dazzling smile lit up, as he averted her stream, and twirled through the air before landing in front of her.
His warmth caressed her skin and his arms circled her waist, his power suspending them above the deep ocean that felt like home.
An array of colours flashed through his crystalised eyes, reflecting the striking blue sky, mixed with streaks of lavender.
He moaned as her hands spread across his chest, reaching up into the thick strands of his hair.
“You caught me,” she whispered.
“I will never let you fall.” He kissed the palm of her hand. Sparks flew, cascading throughout her body, and the ocean thrashed excitedly, lapping at their feet. “I am yours, and you are mine, Kordelia.”
Prickles lined her skin and her vision shuddered . . . wait. She frowned as she withdrew her hands from his smooth face. That wasn’t her name.
“What’s wrong?” His frown wrenched her stomach, and the laps of water undulated, coating up to their shins, clutching and cold.
“Kordelia?” His smooth skin weathered as stubble grew along his jaw, black veins creeping up his neck.
His clothes tightened as he suddenly aged before her.
“Kordelia,” Raiden repeated, his voice deepening.
Each mention of that name darkened the sky, coils of ink bleeding into their blessed bubble, staining this idyllic gods-blessed land. A foghorn sounded, crackling across the sky, splitting the pearlescent clouds until they turned black and plummeted from the heavens.
“What’s happening? Where am I?” She shivered as Raiden’s warm presence frosted, his gusts of wind transforming into frostbite across her flesh.
Her skin pimpled, her fingertips turning blue with death.
The foghorn sounded again and she whirled, using the ocean to support herself as hordes of ships descended upon the shining blue and white city.
They had come.
“No . . . wait!” she cried, racing towards the warfare. She had to stop them. How had she missed the invasion? Screams raked her ears, the cries of children and the booms of cannons creating a cacophony of war.
“Kordelia!” Raiden’s yell faded behind her. Dark inky ribbons leaked from the sky, falling like thick vines, tainting everything they touched, dousing the light of Galen. Of her home. Her heart raced, thundering so hard she was sure it would tear from her chest.
Every lunge was like wading through mud, her power struggling to propel her faster than ever before. She had to save them, she needed to save them all. Torrents of wind and cyclones descended upon the Talmon Empire’s ships as Raiden’s power exploded with might.
“Stop!” he roared, as she powered ahead.
The embodiment of darkness stepped onto the promenade of Mistros City. Collapsing onto the shore, she yelled, allowing her power to wreak havoc, blasts of water dragging soldiers to the depths of the ocean. The dark male turned, his black hair a mark against the glistening city.
With a wave of his hand, a wall of shadows separated them.
His laugh taunted her as she threw the might of her power against it, trying to break through—trying to break him.
It rippled, mimicking her power, absorbing her gift.
A familiar searing pain snaked down her neck, alighting every sinew, its agony seizing her into stillness.
Her throat sealed as her shimmering reflection stared back at her.
But she was older—a woman. White hair tumbling around her like waves, eyes cold like ice, and pouted lips twisted into a sneer.
Every second that passed, darkness grew, sliding around her copy, caressing her body like a snake.
She laughed, the cackle vibrating through the wall, and she raised her hands, water pouring from her palms.
But it was black.
That wasn’t her. She pulled away from the mirage, blinking rapidly as the sky continued to crack and fall.
Citizens cried as soldiers of green and gold marched, their golden-tipped spears destroying windows, raiding homes, and dragging children onto their ghastly sailing vessels.
Her heart hammered, her lungs burned, and her veins screamed as she conjured blast after blast of water.
A wave of ocean washed up onto the promenade, causing a group of invaders to fall, before clumps of seaweed wrapped around their throats, severing their air supply.
Children ran from their puffy grasps into the arms of their weeping mothers as they fled Mistros City, into the heart of Galen.
She was too weak. Too small. Too young. It was too much, there were too many of them.
She was a failure, a pathetic child. She glanced down at her hands, at her body.
It convulsed, changing detail every time she breathed, and she fell to her knees with a scream as her body changed ages like seasons.
“You’ll burn yourself out. Stop, my dear.
” A familiar, levelled voice washed over her and she instantly froze as the foundation she needed cradled her, holding her up with unconditional strength.
She knew his voice. Its sweeping, gentle tones, its husky pitch that’d tucked her into bed each night as a cildbah.
“Father?” She turned, her heart racing as a figure hovered on the edge of her vision. Gleaming white hair filled her mind’s eye, and her breathing hitched as she clung to the details that came into focus. A tall, slender frame, pale skin, and tattoos swirling across every inch of skin.
As soon as she met his blue eyes, the shadowed darkness behind exploded, with a booming, thundering voice ravaging her mind.
The image shattered, like shards of a mirror cascading around her into the deep of the void, abandoning her in the darkness of her frayed mind.
A small web of blue streaks beamed from the core of her frosted power, and she hovered at the edge, where the darkness hissed at her presence.
“Why do you shy away from how it ends?” Thanos’ voice amplified the space. Kora flinched, her identity refilling her mind as she gathered herself within the void.
“I’m not ‘shying away’. The memory always ends at that point.”
“You could see more, if you so wished. But you do not,” Thanos pushed.
Kora growled at his invisible presence, frustration bubbling beneath the surface of her water humanoid form.
She’d scoured the void for days, searching for her burning white lifeline back to Raiden, but when she’d been met with persistent darkness, she’d shifted her focus to her iced memories instead.
“Barron always cuts it off,” she snapped. “His hold on my mind is too great. His power has burned away the memory. My childhood memories no longer exist. That one didn’t even feel real. Things happened that . . . it was impossible.”
A pause followed.
“It’s possible your mind is adding details like a dream, filling the blanks however it wants. I do not believe the sky was tainted and fell during the invasion, or that yourself and Haizea’s descendent could change age. That would take an act of the gods.”
“Raiden?” Kora sniffled from the cold. “He looked so young, and then he . . . he appeared as I saw him last. I felt younger, but even my mind couldn’t place my age correctly.”
“You remember more now than you ever have before,” Thanos mused. “Perhaps keep trying, gifted one, and all will seem true eventually.”
“It’s pointless. Every time I hear her name, it destroys the memory. No matter how hard I try, I cannot connect to my past self.” Kora floated through the void, following the webbed structure back to her most recent memories, appreciating the glowing blue light of her power.
But now, the edges of the webs had streaks of light gold, and where the strands of web crossed paths, they seemed more white than blue. Either way, she was grateful for its presence, to not be shrouded by the suffocating shadows.
“Maybe you do not want to remember.”
Kora paused. Was Thanos right? As the God of Death, he was very insightful.
Since Blake had committed her body to hover on the precipice of death, she’d mastered accessing the void to explore her memories, to discover what had happened to her those ten years ago.
A distant sting punctured her chest and she squashed it down.
She had also mastered locking away her emotions, to forget the betrayal that had destroyed her life.
But she was met with Barron’s block every time.
Whatever he’d done to her mind, it was thorough, and still in control of her memories.
How much time had passed? How long had she been between life and death?
Thankfully, Thanos had begun visiting her in this new weave some time ago.
By the gods, it’d been nice not to be alone.
“Maybe Barron’s just too good,” Kora sighed.
“No!” Thanos’ objection cracked the void and Kora gasped as tiny slivers of light sliced through the darkness. The frayed tendrils of her mind wailed, scurrying further into the thick of the black. “I will not hear it. We will keep trying.”
“What . . . can you break the void?” The cracks of light sealed up, and Kora released a small sob as their warmth dissipated, leaving her in cold fathomless black.
“Not all gods can connect to the in-between. I am one of the few fortunate.”
“If you can access the void, can you take me somewhere else?” Cruel hope lifted her heart. If there was a way in, then there was a way out.
“Do you not wish to remember?” His voice quirked, amusement leaking through.
“I’m not going anywhere anytime soon; you can always bring me back. Unless it’s not part of Calypso’s plan?”
Kora hadn’t forgotten her last interaction with Thanos in the Eternal Tryk.
Since then, she’d repeatedly asked him about the supposed plan Calypso had designed for her, but he was as tight-lipped as a vault in the Citadel.
Refusing to divulge secrets, just as the Citadel refused to divulge wealth to the less fortunate.
Kora held a bated breath in the suspended silence as she stared into nothingness, pretending a singular point was Thanos’ imaginary floating form.
“It has been a while since I have . . . exasperated Calypso. Say no more, blessed one.”
And the void cracked open.