What Blooms from Death

Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Nova

“There are two swords, actually,” my brother said as he led me, Aleksander, Zayn, and Thalia down a narrow corridor with a set of double steel doors at its end. Phantom perched on my shoulder, shifted into the form of a small dragon with a lanky body, sharp claws, and feathery wings. Red had stayed behind in the parlor on the other side of the palace, where she was being doted upon by Aveline, who seemed thrilled to have a willing taste-tester for the copious amounts of baked goods she’d originally, unsuccessfully tried to foist off on me.

“Luminor has a counterpart— Grimnor ,” Bastian continued, stopping before the doors and running his fingers along the swirling designs etched into them. “Both swords were made by the same divine hand. Both once belonged to the first Vaelora of their respective worlds. The swords channel all sorts of magic, but the most important facet of their power is their ability to guide the Aetherstone on the Equinox—though accounts differ as to precisely how they help control its power.”

“A power that isn’t enough to support both worlds, you claim,” Zayn said.

“And hasn’t been for many millennia. A growing population and an increasing reliance on magic were the original culprits, and then, even as these things stabilized, it never fully recovered.”

“Perhaps because the turning weakened it further?” Zayn mused, speaking in his usual easygoing tone despite the tense mood hanging over the rest of us. “That’s what they get for trying to share, eh? One of the worlds should have just been greedy from the beginning, and then we wouldn’t be dealing with this mess, now.”

Bastian didn’t comment on this, keeping his focus on running his hands over the doors before us, working to break what was apparently an elaborate sealing spell. The tension thickened with his silence, settling over us like a heavy, itchy blanket.

Despite their connections to the Light Keepers, my brother had tentatively agreed to allow both Zayn and Aleksander to accompany us and learn more about the swords and the legends surrounding them—mostly at my insistence.

Thalia, however, seemed less enthusiastic about their presence. Not one to bother with hiding her true feelings, she’d been staring daggers at the two of them for most of our walk. Zayn appeared oblivious to this; Aleksander had been glaring right back at her.

“How many of these turnings have been missed?” I asked.

“According to most records we’ve deciphered, it’s been five-hundred and ninety-six years since that fateful moment when the Aetherstone’s magic didn’t turn toward us as it should have,” said Thalia, stepping closer to my brother, positioning herself as if to shield the movements of his hands from Zayn and Aleksander’s sight.

Finally, the etchings Bastian had been tracing and tapping began to shine with a faint silver glow.

My turquoise bracelet shivered as they did. I was distracted before I could wonder too long about the reaction, however, as the doors pulled apart, revealing a large room on the other side.

Phantom bounced anxiously back and forth between my shoulders, occasionally stretching his long neck out, taking a cautious sniff of the air only to quickly draw back. I clamped a hand onto his wriggling body, holding him still as I gathered my courage and stepped inside along with the others.

The room was cold enough that I was surprised I couldn’t see my breath. Its walls were paneled in dark wood; its floor was smooth, reflective stone; and in the center of the space, suspended in mid-air above a pedestal of polished metal, were two swords.

I drew as close to them as I dared, coming to a stop some ten feet away. Nothing was holding them up, that I could see—they were simply floating, being slowly spun by some unseen hand.

Phantom curled more closely to me, wrapping his scaly body against my neck. His talons caught in the waves of my hair, but I was indifferent to the painful pulling his tangling caused.

All I could think about—all I could see and feel and hear—were those two swords before me. They hummed with a faint, ancient power, whispering against my skin like a brush of wind over water, sending ripples of awe radiating through me.

Luminor was as beautiful as I remembered. In the low light of the room, it seemed particularly radiant, its broad blade faintly pulsing with a glow that shifted between shades of pale gold and soft blue. The hilt was polished moonstone, with a guard that was simple, yet elegant, its intertwining spindles of gold like protective beams of shielding light. Delicate, but strong—the sort of weapon that I imagined would feel like a weightless extension of one’s arm.

Grimnor hung with a more obvious weight. Its beauty was of a different sort—haunting, heavy, unyielding. Where Luminor gave off light, Grimnor seemed to absorb it, staining its more narrow blade in a deep, velvety shade of black that occasionally tumbled with a smoky-white energy. The hilt appeared crafted from obsidian, inlaid with veins of a red gemstone that sparkled whenever Luminor's light shifted over it. The guard was minimal, a jagged flaring of polished black metal that made me think of dragon wings.

“They’re both here.” My voice was hushed. I couldn’t fully explain the sense of reverence rising in my chest, but it felt as if I was looking upon the faces of gods.

“Yes,” said Thalia. “Luminor fell into our possession seven years ago, thanks, however inadvertently, to you—a bit of good luck that this realm was sorely overdue for. Grimnor, meanwhile, has been here ever since Calista’s passing, centuries ago.”

“…Calista?” I was immediately, mentally transported back to the shrine where I’d last stood with Orin. “Argoth’s wife and queen, you mean?”

“They were never truly wed,” Thalia informed me. “And she was never a queen.”

“Though they were in love,” Bastian added.

Zayn settled down on the crimson cushions of a bench against the wall, propping himself up on the armrest with the air of a king settling in to watch a performance.

Aleksander gave him a wry look.

I arched a brow, waiting for the Elarithian lord to summon food and drink to enjoy along with his show.

But Zayn only shrugged and said, “There’s clearly a long story here.” He waved a hand toward my brother, urging him on.

Bastian slowly nodded, looking back to the floating swords as he began. “Calista was the last Vaelora born into Noctaris until Nova came along hundreds of years later. Her counterpart was Lorien Blackvale, one of the most powerful wielders of Light magic to ever walk in Soltaris. Some say Lorien was more than a human, even, and was in fact the offspring of a mortal and a god. His heart was human enough, however—because it fell in love with Calista.

“Prior to these two, the Vaelora were always celibate beings. They were bound only to their duty, both by tradition and by the magical pact put in place between the first Vaelora and the old gods themselves. They were raised with strict objectives: Make it to adulthood without bonding to anyone else, master their magic, and be prepared to work with their counterpart to carry out the Equinoctial Turning through the use of magic and their respective swords. After the Turning, the expectation was sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?” The word felt heavy on my tongue.

“Another duty of Luminor and Grimnor,” said Bastian. “Once the Vaelora ritualistically impaled themselves upon the blades, the magic they carried would leave their bodies and eventually find its way into the souls of the next pair of them to be born, and thus the cycle continued.”

“You said prior to these two ,” Aleksander said. “So I’m guessing Calista and Lorien didn’t follow expectations?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Thalia said.

Bastian nodded, his expression solemn. “Lorien was the first to suggest they abandon the traditional Turning. He claimed he wanted to seek a way to bring balance back to both worlds once more—but truthfully, it was an attempt to avoid death and keep Calista alive for his own selfish desires.”

“And Calista pretended to go along with this plan,” Thalia said, “because she didn’t want to turn the Aetherstone’s magic either. Her reluctance had nothing to do with any love for Lorien , though—even though she led him to believe that was the case.”

“It was her love for Argoth, wasn’t it?” Zayn guessed.

Perhaps it was my imagination, but the room seemed to darken at the words, both swords shifting, wobbling in their suspended places. Luminor, in particular, appeared restless, its blade continuing to shiver and shimmer for several moments after Zayn spoke.

“…Yes,” Thalia said, watching Luminor out of the corner of her eye as her head tilted toward Zayn. “She loved that mortal, magicless king so much that she refused to turn the Aetherstone’s power to Noctaris because it would mean the end of their relationship.”

“What happens to the worlds when the Stone is turned away from it?” I wanted to know. “When things were still functioning as intended, I mean.”

“A death-like slumber would overtake every living thing in those worlds,” Bastian said. “A… hibernation, of sorts. Some of the souls in it were preserved and would revive as soon as the magic shifted and the time to reawaken came; others would perish in the time between; and a chosen few were believed to be immediately transferred into the opposite world, to be given an opportunity to live in it as well…it’s an interesting thing to study, really, if you wanted to—”

“Interesting, but not a subject we have time for at the moment,” Thalia interrupted.

Bastian gave her a sheepish look. I got the impression it wasn’t the first time she’d stopped my brother from launching into a tangent of fact and figure reciting. Despite her hasty silencing, however, there seemed to be a rare glimmer of affection in her amethyst eyes—as though she admired his enthusiasm, even if we didn’t have time for it.

I wondered briefly at their relationship—at all the relationships my brother had with everyone but me. All I’d missed. My heart beat unsteadily in my chest, still unsure of how to feel about him and the idea of making up for all our lost time.

“Anyway,” Thalia continued, “when Lorien discovered Calista’s love for the mortal king, he tried to murder her in a fit of jealous rage. She was badly wounded, but she escaped and fled to this palace. Here, she poured the last of her magic out, creating a protective ward around this area. She died soon after.

“With her death, the already delayed Turning was more… permanently delayed—but the spells she laid in place here carried on, and they’ve allowed the palace and the royal city south of it to continue to exist in a relatively normal state. The Below outside of this, however, has been withering away ever since—though nothing truly dies . You’ve seen the shades, the wraiths, the cities full of flames…all of it shadows of what once was. All of it has been sustained by Calista’s desperate last spells, and occasionally bolstered by the weaker magic of the ones who served her, in hopes that one day it could all be truly restored.”

“ Can it be restored?” Zayn asked.

“The people here were beginning to doubt it,” said Bastian.“Generations went by before any Noctarisan child was born with a Vaeloran mark—until Nova was born here twenty-five years ago.”

“What took so long, I wonder?” Zayn mused.

“Most of the population of this world is currently in a frozen, undead state,” Aleksander pointed out. “So there haven’t been many opportunities for such a child to be born, have there?”

“That’s true. But…” Bastian hesitated, as if preparing to speak of something cursed and evil—something wicked that might gain a foothold just by hearing its name in the air. “There are many who believe Lorien Blackvale might have influenced this, too. That he’s still out there, still doing all he can to make certain Noctaris never wakes again—thus vengefully ensuring that Calista and the world she came from suffer eternally for lying to him and rejecting him.”

“So he’s immortal, then?” I asked.

“In a sense,” my brother said. “The Vaelora were always granted longer lifespans, as were the ones who served them and their cause—the ones I believe you know as the Aetherkin .”

“The Aetherkin…like Orin?”

“Yes. Like him,” Thalia said, her tone oddly strained all of a sudden.

“Lorien’s longevity is believed to have far surpassed any of them, however,” said Bastian, placing a hand on Thalia’s arm and giving it a little squeeze, “thanks to an ability he stole from Calista during the attempted murder. Luminor bled magic from her when it pierced her body; a corruption of the sacrifice the blade was meant to perform after the Turning. Her ability to possess other beings and objects ended up settling in Lorien, among other magical talents. And, coupled with his own magic, this allegedly makes him able to possess other people with a lasting hold.

“We believe he’s been jumping from one body to the next for centuries, avoiding death. And his servants continue as well, doing all they can to aid him in his quest to rise the Above higher while our Below is crushed further down.”

“His servants…the Keepers of Light, you mean?” I asked, recalling our conversation in the courtyard earlier.

He nodded. “They started as Aetherkin, meant only to aid the Vaelora as the ancient agreements decreed. But he’s somehow made them stronger over the years, and now…well, now it’s hard to say exactly how much power they truly hold.”

“If they’re in league with this immortal demon, as you claim, then they’ve done an exceptional job of hiding it,” said Zayn, skepticism lacing the words.

Aleksander looked more troubled by the possibility, but he said nothing.

No one else said anything for several moments, either. The swords continued to hum and spin, while Thalia and my brother circled the platform below them, as if inspecting for damage. Zayn closed his eyes, leaning back against the bench. Aleksander watched the blades with a look of fierce consideration, scarcely blinking even as Luminor’s glow shifted over his hard features.

Phantom wiggled where he perched on my shoulder, pressing closer to my neck. His mouth full of tiny, needle-sharp teeth found my ear, affectionately nipping me out of the overwhelmed stupor I was falling into.

After some thought, I settled on a question among the countless number of them tumbling through my head, and I interrupted the silence: “Argoth…what became of him?”

To my surprise, it was Zayn who answered first, his eyes popping open as he said, “He lived. Married, too, and had at least one child.”

“Lorien didn’t kill him?”

“It was a worse punishment to live without Calista, I’d imagine,” Zayn said with a shrug.

“But how do you know he lived?”

“Because I’m his descendant,” Aleksander said quietly. “Though we didn’t speak of him often back home—for reasons that are becoming somewhat clearer, if all this messy history is true.”

I considered the words, the implications of it all. “So he married someone other than the one he loved…”

“Queen Elowen, if my memory serves,” said Zayn. “And their son was called Arius.” He flashed me one of his roguish grins. “Though I didn’t really pay attention during most of my history lectures, so don’t quote me on any of that.”

“…An heir out of necessity, I guess,” I mused. “Because all of the stories that circulate through Eldris only speak of Calista and his great love for her . There are poems and songs written about that love, even, and the roads that were built into this world…weren’t they for her as well?”

“Yes,” Bastian confirmed. “He built them in an attempt to recover Calista’s body, and to do what he could to save her world—but his efforts were ultimately hindered by the politics of needing to marry and produce an heir for his kingdom, and said efforts eroded even further after his death. Over time, the true story of their love and the paths it created was twisted and rewritten by his enemies.”

“And eventually, the Keepers of Light started to refer to this world as Hell, and so Hell it became,” Thalia added. “It was easy enough to convince the dwellers of the Above that Noctaris was a place only of darkness and demise, given the powers of the Vaelora and the Aetherkin who hailed from here.”

“In reality, necromancy is no more evil than luxmancy—the Light magic—that the Above is known for,” said Bastian. “Both shades of magic have a capacity for great good and for great evil. They’re merely different in order to balance the worlds. But the Light Keepers, and the one they serve, aren’t concerned with balance. They needed to demonize Noctaris and its magic in order to properly bury it, so that was what they did. The roads Argoth created became known as roads to death, and, eventually, all belief that the Below was anything but a place for lost souls faded into history, then into legend, and, finally, into a barely-believed myth.”

Dizzy with the weight of all this new knowledge, I wandered over and sat down beside Zayn. Phantom dropped into my lap, burrowing underneath my crossed arms so he could press his face against my chest. Zayn placed a hand on my knee, offering a comforting squeeze.

“It took years for me to find a way to enter one of those roads to death,” I said, turning my attention back to my brother. “I still don’t understand why I was taken away from this world in the first place. Earlier, you said it was to protect us, but…”

“Yes. Because when you were born, your magic initially caused more harm than good—it was simply too much to contain within this small section of our world. It was drawing in all manner of wraiths and shades, and far worse creatures, who essentially lost their minds trying to feed off it. So, Orin took you Above, vowing to keep you safe until your magic stabilized enough to come back here to reclaim your sword and crown.”

I gripped the bracelets Orin had made for me, lifting my eyes toward the sword in question. Would Grimnor help stabilize and channel my powers further?

My brother’s gaze followed mine, settling on the dark blade for a long moment before he tilted his face to me and said, “You are meant to wield it. And through it, to turn magic in our favor once more.”

It looked incredibly heavy. And yet, at least in that moment, it was impossible not to imagine wielding it. Impossible not to wonder about what would happen if I wrapped my hands around its beautiful, sparkling hilt…

Before I realized what I was doing, I found myself rising to my feet, making my way to the swords and kneeling at the pedestal they floated above. Phantom latched onto my shoulder, peering nervously up at the blades while the bulk of his body hung against my back.

There were words etched into the face of the pedestal. I ran my fingers over them, feeling out a message in a language I couldn’t read, and I soon realized…

Some of the symbols here were the same as the ones painted on my turquoise bracelet.

And that bracelet had started to tremble gently against my wrist.

“What makes you think she’ll be able to use the sword to save this world?” Zayn asked, getting to his feet as well. “She doesn’t have the greatest history when it comes to keeping her magic under any sort of precise control.” Clearing his throat, he added, “No offense, Princess.”

“None taken,” I said, distractedly, my fingers still tracing the pedestal’s strange words.

“And what would she be attempting to wield it against, truly?” Aleksander asked. “You claim the Keepers of Light are in league with this Lorien figure; I imagine they won’t make reaching the Aetherstone easy, even if she can figure out how to work the sword and magic needed to manipulate it.”

“Yes.” Bastian’s voice seemed laden with a thousand unspoken concerns, yet he doggedly continued on: “The Keepers are, in fact, guarding it fiercely, and have been for centuries—presumably under Lorien’s orders. It’s the other part of the battle we face, unfortunately. We can’t breach their protective lines. Or we couldn’t, at least, until Nova came along and gave us a chance at resurrecting a proper army.”

I could sense his gaze shifting, pressing against me, heavy with hope. With expectations. I closed my eyes against the doubt trying to flood through me, keeping my hand braced against the pedestal. Something about the feel of the words beneath my fingertips—even if I couldn’t decipher them—kept me calm. It quickly settled the shivering in my bracelet, too. Almost as if whatever power slept in its beads had only been waiting for me to reunite it with the power at the center of this chamber.

“What you did outside of Erebos was nothing short of astounding,” Bastian continued. “You’re bringing life back to this world. Not to all of it, no, but your power will be enough to help us raise an army capable of taking on the forces that have kept us from entering Nerithys—the domain where the Aetherstone resides—for all these centuries.”

“She didn’t raise those beings from the dead on her own,” Zayn reminded them.

“And there were always two of the Vaelora, didn’t you say?” Aleksander added. “But is there another aside from Nova, now?”

Thalia’s reply was stiff. “None that we’re aware of.”

“So who will wield Luminor? Don’t you need both to adequately control the Stone?”

This time, Thalia didn’t reply; the questions hung like a storm cloud in the air, charged and heavy and waiting to break.

An invisible, yet very clear fence seemed to be rising between us. I stood slowly, glancing over my shoulder and studying the faces on each side.

Aleksander was staring at his sword, his eyes glowing a brilliant shade of gold in its light, as he said, “This blade was a gift to me as a child. I know its weight, its magic, and I could potentially wield it…but why would I help her—or you —when to do so would likely mean the end of my world and my kingdom’s rule?”

The cold calculation in his words stung. But I couldn’t deny that he had a point; I’d asked myself the same question, earlier. Despite all the progress we’d made toward not wanting to murder one another, it seemed we were destined to remain enemies, whether we liked it or not.

“Whatever power she’s been borrowing from you, we will teach her to do without it,” Thalia said, cooly. “She won’t need you once she’s had a chance to properly practice her powers with the other magic users that share her same alignment.”

“You think she can turn the Stone by herself?” Zayn asked.

“With an army at her back, yes. The old ways are long dead, the pacts broken, the laws forgotten—and we intend to make that work in our favor, now.”

Both Zayn and Aleksander started to protest, but my brother cut them off.

“I hardly think I need to point this out,” came his voice, low and filled with warning, “but the two of you are vastly outnumbered in this palace. So whether or not you intend to help us willingly is rather irrelevant.”

At this, the conversation collapsed into nothing but arguments.

I looked back to the swords, blocking out the noise behind me as best I could.

As I stared at Grimnor, watching the way it sparkled whenever Luminor rotated closer to it, a solution quietly, nervously snuck into my thoughts. One that seemed obvious, albeit fraught with uncertainty. It took me several moments to work up the courage to say it out loud.

Raising my voice above the bickering, I said, “Isn’t it possible that we could… balance the two worlds, as Lorien claimed he wanted to do?”

The arguments slowed to a stop, silence settling like a blanket of snow over the room, creating a quiet so deep it was almost eerie.

“What would happen if we truly tried to do such a thing?” I said into the chilly silence, studying my reflection in Grimnor’s dark blade. “Could the worlds both exist together, as they once did?”

I could hear the frown in my brother’s voice as he said, “It’s been thousands of years since they existed that way.”

“Yes, but Aleksander and I have managed to weave our power together to balance things around us over this past week, and to bring life… together . And without even really trying.” I braced myself before letting my gaze trail toward the Light King. He was watching me with an expression that was equal parts doubtful and curious.

I steeled myself and kept going. “That has to mean something, doesn’t it? So much about this legend of the Vaelora and everything concerning them has been skewed and rewritten…so maybe it’s just another lie, the claim that only one world can survive at a time.”

“Noctaris is a breath away from eternal death and damnation,” Thalia said, as though I needed reminding. “Now is not the time to experiment.”

Gritting my teeth, I swallowed down my response. Our words seemed destined to chase circles around each other. I had half a mind to move to action instead—to grab the swords and storm out of the room. But as I started to reach toward them, a cold wave of pressure rippled over me, raising the hair along my arm and clenching my muscles into stillness.

“There’s a shield protecting them and suppressing their power,” my brother explained. “We need to make sure you’re ready to handle the full effect Grimnor will have on your magic before you draw it out; otherwise, we may end up in the same dangerous situation that followed your birth.”

So much power to potentially change everything …yet it still remained out of reach, even after I’d come so far. Frustrated, I looked around—though what other answers I was hoping to find, I wasn’t sure.

There were guards at the door, I noticed.

Likely in case Aleksander and Zayn decided to try anything to get to Luminor—but I couldn’t help feeling as if they were there to cage me in, too. I felt trapped. Backed into a corner with a strange mixture of power and despair swirling around me.

“Once you step fully into your magic, Grimnor is yours for the taking,” my brother assured me, “along with a crown, and the loyalty of the ones in this palace and all who fight for it.”

“How long do I have to prepare to take it?”

“The next Equinox is in just under four weeks, according to our calculations,” Thalia said. “This will be the easiest time to both reach and manipulate the Aetherstone—perhaps the only time—and likely our last chance.”

Four weeks.

I bowed my head, fighting the urge to sink to my knees.

“Less than four weeks to prepare to change the fate of an entire lost world,” Zayn said with a disbelieving little chuckle. “No pressure, though.”

Phantom nudged his snout under my chin, urging me to lift my head and see the shadows that had started to swirl around Grimnor’s blade. They looked remarkably similar to the ones that often rose from my skin.

I watched them circle around Luminor, the light blade glowing brighter in the same breath, ribbons of its magic taking on a more solid shape. I expected the air to rumble as those ribbons collided with Grimnor’s shadows, but no violence came of it—they merely weaved in and out in a dance of clearly powerful yet peaceful precision.

Balanced .

As if responding to the plan I’d spoken of minutes ago. Light and dark, dark and light…I might have been born of this lower realm, and I’d never truly belonged to the one above…

But I still didn’t want to see anything happen to either realm.

“I will do what I can to fix the Stone and its wayward power,” I said, quietly but firmly, “but I am not saving one world at the expense of another. I will fight for both, or I will not fight at all.”

Thalia and Bastian exchanged a worried look.

Zayn appeared mildly amused.

I paid the three of them little mind, my eyes automatically trailing toward Aleksander.

He was watching the same twisting of light and dark that I’d been watching. Like we were kids once more, enjoying the show of shadow puppets on the walls looming so impossibly high before us.

Slowly, his gaze fell to me.

The cold calculations continued behind his eyes, but deep in their golden depths there was a hint of the boy who had comforted me all those years ago. He was still in there, despite how fiercely everything seemed to be trying to rip us apart.

He tilted his head, studying me, and the world seemed to tilt with it as he said, “And I will fight with her.”