Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nova
I braced myself.
“You clearly carry an enormous amount of magic.”
“Yes, but it’s not predictable or always entirely useful magic.”
“And yet, you brought an entire section of our dead realm to life.”
“I told you: I didn’t do that.”
It was a flimsy attempt at a lie, and it didn’t stick in the slightest.
“Come now, Nova. We both know you were lying.”
A group of wraiths wandered closer to us. Uncomfortably close. My turquoise bracelet again reacted to the concentration of their flames, coming to life with a fluttering that made my wrist itch. I gripped it as casually as I could, trying not to draw attention to it, while also trying to settle it. “It’s not entirely a lie,” I told Kaelen. “I did cause some things to bloom, yes. But I didn’t do it on purpose. And I didn’t do it...”
I trailed off, fixing my eyes on a distant, rippling banner to avoid Kaelen’s expectant stare.
Alone .
That was what I’d nearly said.
But something had caught my tongue, and something continued to hold it now. Despite the frustration and uncertainty I felt toward the King of Light—and the way I’d hurried away from him earlier—some part of me didn’t want to betray him.
It wasn’t just about protecting him, and it had nothing to do with the lingering ache that came when I thought of what we’d done in that loft. Or what we could have done, had my vision not interrupted us.
We were simply safer if I didn’t speak of our full abilities.
The Keeper of Erebos didn’t realize how powerful Aleksander and I were together. He didn’t realize we’d brought that girl—our mysterious Red —back to life. He only had suspicions about me and my own powers. Nothing else.
And I wasn’t foolish enough to give him any more than that.
“Nevertheless, you clearly have magic we haven’t seen in this city in some time.”
I remained silent.
“You don’t deny that your magic could potentially help us, do you?”
I gritted my teeth. “It isn’t really a favor if you guilt me into it, now is it?”
He held up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I won’t force you into anything. Just…consider it. All the potential of it.”
We walked on in uncomfortable silence, slowly weaving our way back toward the manor. The sharp cold from earlier persisted, snapping at our heels, urging us to keep moving, lest we end up as frozen statues. My skin felt tight, as if it was already halfway to a statuesque state, and my feet ached with a numbness I couldn’t shake off.
More than once, I had the sensation of drifting out of control, my boots not truly touching the ground, my body belonging to someone else—and I didn’t think it was solely due to the cold.
Was it something about the air in this city?
Something about drinking its water, or staring too long into its flames?
I chanced a glance at Kaelen, who seemed to be trying to avoid my gaze. His brow was deeply furrowed in thought. The expression highlighted the dark circles beneath his eyes and a puckered scar above his cheek. A man who had clearly seen his share of battles. Horrors and sorrows, too—and had likely inflicted his share of such things.
Despite this, he didn’t really strike me as a bad man. More like a desperate one. But the desperate ones were far more dangerous, I’d long ago learned.
Because you could predict what a bad man would do.
That wasn’t always true of a desperate one.
And worse: I wanted to help his city. I wanted to rekindle all the fires, to go back to the market and find that distraught-looking woman and see how I might be able to aid her. It was a familiar compulsion of mine, the need to fix things. A role I’d gravitated toward throughout most of my life—that of the helper.
Often to my own detriment, as Orin frequently chastised.
But like so much of what I’d encountered in this realm thus far, so many things about Erebos simply didn’t add up. I had the same feeling with Kaelen as I did with Thalia: That he was leaving parts of the narrative out. So how could I possibly help ? It would be like trying to steer a carriage that was missing one of its wheels.
The mansion came back into view, its whitewashed exterior burning orange in the light of the strange sky—a lighting that I was beginning to associate with late evening. Whether that was accurate or not, I didn’t know; I just needed to label it in order to give myself a sense of time and meaning.
Rather than walking straight to the main residence, we veered onto a more narrow side trail, twisting our way past overgrown hedges and dead clumps of prickly bushes, following a path of red bricks that soon gave way to mere dirt. There were curved metal troughs lining our way; scorch marks in their interiors suggested they, too, had once held flames—but now they were empty, just like the metal bowls in the center of the city.
The manor remained in my peripheral vision, but that wasn’t where Kaelen led me. Instead, we made our way to a smaller building off to the right, where a sizable host of wraiths milled about in a fenced section of yard. Most of them were carrying more shallow versions of the metal bowls I’d seen on display in the city, each with a small, dying flame in its center. Like starving people wandering, preparing to beg for food that I feared didn’t exist.
“What is this place?” I asked softly.
Kaelen’s expression was solemn. His voice, low. Pained. “An infirmary, of sorts. A holding place for the ones whose flames are going out.”
Ones like that distraught woman in the marketplace?
“Sometimes they find a way to rekindle their fires, however briefly. Other times…”
“They’re erased ?” I asked, recalling the word he’d used earlier.
“You’ve seen the shades outside of this city. They’re the cursed ones, the fallen ones—the ones who aren’t strong enough to keep themselves burning, so to speak.”
I couldn’t help my morbid curiosity; I stepped closer, studying the gaunt figures who stood before me. The beings were caught somewhere between the drifting shades and the sentient wraiths, as Kaelen suggested. Their bodies were still well-defined, solid aside from the occasional wispy edges. But they moved slowly, as if each step took a massive effort. It was haunting to watch them struggle. Like I was watching the living embodiment of dying hope.
“You say you can’t control your magic,” came Kaelen’s voice, cold and distant, “but something must trigger it. The question is…what?”
He seemed to be speaking more to himself than me. Regardless, I had no definite answers to give him. Lots of things seemed to trigger it. Fear, pain, arousal…any powerful emotion.
And the strongest waves, unfortunately, were undeniably kindled during my interactions with the King of Light.
Another fact I had no intention of sharing with Kaelen.
As I continued to watch the fading wraiths, a sudden, sharp pain ripped across my shoulder and down my arm, followed by a blossoming warmth. It happened so abruptly it took several seconds longer than it should have for me to register what that warmth actually was—
Blood .
It rushed over my arm, soaking my sleeve and gathering at my fingertips, a few drops dripping down to the dusty, grey ground.
Fear and confusion tangled together, tearing a violent path through me. My shadows leapt to the surface, ready to defend against whatever threats were causing me pain. Their movement triggered a reaction amongst the fading wraiths—they surged toward me so violently, I nearly fell backwards. Clearly drawn to the energy I’d unleashed, to the scent of blood and magic swirling in the air.
“As I suspected,” came Kaelen’s still-musing voice, from somewhere far behind me.
I realized quickly what he’d done: He’d answered his own question, pulling my magic to the surface on purpose, throwing me like a scrap of meat to a pack of dogs just to see what would happen.
One of my shadowy scraps drifted into the faint flame carried by one of the wraiths, and to my surprise—and horror—that flame instantly grew brighter.
The one holding it slowly lifted his gaze to mine. His eyes seemed to grow more aware, more alive , even as I stared into them.
Again, I found myself bringing life and light into this world, rather than the death and darkness I was used to.
But at what cost?
Dozens of hungry stares lifted in my direction.
My bleeding shoulder burned and ached. Panic clawed at me, but I forced it back long enough to assess the situation. The wraiths were circling closer, their forms becoming more defined in the haze of the dim evening light. Their eyes glowed faintly, like the embers of the dying fires they carried, yet they focused intently on me.
One of the wraiths lunged forward, faster than I expected, its form flickering like smoke. I tried—and initially failed—to possess it with magic, to drive my will into its fading essence. The black-rose bracelet rattled with the effort, shaking so intensely I thought it might break, but I held my arm steady until I felt a cold, foreign energy stabbing through my arm. I clenched my hand into a fist, trying to grab that energy as I’d grabbed other things by using this possessing power. But it felt different against my palm, this time; like trying to grasp mud—solid one moment, squeezing through my fingers the next.
Nevertheless, I managed to bend the will of the wraith enough to throw it off balance, sending it tumbling away from me.
Countless more moved to follow its attack.
The group was not as listless as it had first appeared. Now that I’d drawn their attention—their hunger—they swarmed with purpose, their movements swift and synchronized. But they were also smart enough to stop and consider their tactics when I lifted my palm threateningly in their direction, ready to throw more aside as I’d done with the first.
One of them stepped out beyond the others, raising a hand and gesturing to them, issuing commands. A leader. As he spoke to the other wraiths in a harsh, booming voice, I spun furiously back toward Kaelen.
The sovereign of Erebos was watching me with a strange, slightly mad gleam in his eyes, one of his scythes in hand. His gaze drifted between the streak of my blood staining the blade, to the drops of scarlet that had splattered the ground.
“They’ve been aware of your magic since I brought you into my home,” he said. “Hungering for it.”
“You bastard. ” I took a furious step toward him, shadows flying around me as I did. “You said you wouldn’t force me into anything!”
He sheathed his weapon with a slow, deliberate motion, as if indifferent to the growing chaos around us. “ I am not forcing anything. But the citizens of Erebos grow desperate, and I am bound as their leader to toss them a bit of hope every now and then.” He motioned to the trail of my blood.
His idea of hope .
This man was beyond desperate.
“What they do with you is up to them,” he said.
My gaze darted frantically around, seeking escape routes but finding none; the wraiths were closing in from every direction. Too many of them.
Far, far too many.
“Or perhaps you can figure out a different plan?” Kaelen continued, his voice flat. “Go ahead: Tell them you have nothing to give, despite all the evidence to the contrary. Maybe they’ll leave you in peace. Maybe you can continue on your way, ignoring the plight of my citizens.”
I glared at him, my fury building. “You’re out of your fucking mind.”
“I’ve made my case and asked my favor.” His eyes stared past me, focused on nothing in particular, like an executioner resigned to his duty. Whatever doubts he might have had about my sentencing, he lifted his hand and signaled for the carnage to continue.
The motion was chillingly casual.
The crowd of wraiths needed only this slight wave of Kaelen’s hand to surge forward once more, into a blur of shadows and hunger and fading, flickering flames.
I immediately lost sight of Kaelen within the mayhem. I could do nothing except try to push my way through the swarm, fighting for breath, for balance, for some way out of the madness.
Occasionally, I managed to grab hold of one of the wraiths with my magic, shoving it aside and clearing a path. But for every one I threw back, three more converged, cutting off my path just as quickly.
Horrific memories of Lake Nyras flashed in my mind. I felt the weight of those ghostly shades pressing me underwater all over again—except these ghosts were much heavier, much more violent. Much more hungry.
And Aleksander wasn’t here to save me this time.
A cold hand clawed into the wound on my shoulder. I screamed, and with it, more ribbons of darkness exploded outward—an automatic defense mechanism that only led to more of my shadows finding their way into the flames the wraiths carried.
One after the other, those flames burned brighter, hotter, higher.
My turquoise bracelet rattled again. I gripped the beads tightly, tucking my head toward my chest, trying to keep from vomiting in response to the pain radiating through my shoulder.
The swarm of starving dead around me swayed and groaned, a sea of insatiable hunger. Until suddenly…it parted.
I found myself in the middle of two rows as their leader emerged once more, approaching me. The blue flame he carried was the brightest I’d seen yet. His eyes had already been more intelligent than most of the others; in the light of the fire, they were…different. Uncanny. His entire face was, really—slightly off and unsettling, as if he’d been revived but had yet to remember how to mold his features into proper human placements.
He watched intently as one of my wayward shadows fell into the nearest flame. And just as before, the fire grew as it devoured the dark ribbon, turning the fuel of my magic into a bolder, brighter light to live by.
As it burned, the wraith leader shouted another command.
His voice was like rocks scraping against glass, making me cringe. The words were foreign, but the meaning in his disturbingly-expressive face was clear…so terribly clear that I could almost feel the weight of it pressing down on my chest, making my heart stutter in fear—
Bleed her dry.