Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Nova
A chill began to overtake us, sneaking its way into my bones and settling there. I pressed closer to Phantom’s back, to the heat radiating from him, and kept a watchful, determined eye on our surroundings.
The sky eventually began to lighten again, shifting to a bruised shade of violet rather than black—but its light was different from the one that hung over Tarnath and the palace. Not the light of a proper world’s sun, but a veiled shine with no source that I could pinpoint. One that felt threatening despite its softness.
We came to the head of a narrow, sandy grey path, marked by two columns wrapped in thorny vines. Thalia finally slowed to a stop and dismounted, unsheathing her staff from the special sling attached to Uldrin’s saddle.
“We won’t linger here long,” she said, “because it isn’t safe to do so. You and your power will eventually attract the attention of any shades that might be nearby. But generally, this is an area that those shades avoid. So we should have a few minutes to work with—a very few minutes, as your brother stressed to me, over and over and over.”
I couldn’t help noticing, again, how fond and familiar her tone was when the subject of my brother came up.
“So, you’ve known him for over twenty-four years,” I said, hopping down from Phantom’s back.
“Give or take.”
“The two of you seem close.”
I had so many questions about him, I hardly knew where to start. I’d had precious little time with Bastian since my arrival—he was a popular man, it turned out. He called himself Regent, but most everyone else referred to him as King , and he served in the role with what seemed like an endless amount of patience and resolve—though more out of obligation than any real desire for power, based on my limited observations.
I was the older twin, and, by their laws, apparently, I was the one meant to rule Noctaris’s central kingdom of Rivenholt. This most powerful crown of the Below was mine…if only I wanted to wear it. Yet, despite the significant opportunity it presented, the whole idea felt like an afterthought to me.
Because if I couldn’t master my magic, and ready my sword and army, then there would be no kingdoms left to rule over.
“We’ve come to rely on one another over the years,” Thalia replied, her tone lacking some of its usual, frigid confidence. “But that isn’t important right now.” She gestured to the path of grey sand that lay through the columns. “This is. Come on.”
“What about Uldrin?”
“He’s not a fan of the place we’re headed,” she said, already starting to walk, “so he’ll want to stay behind. Don’t worry; he won’t go anywhere.”
I cast an uncertain glance toward the scourge stallion—but he’d already started pawing at the ground in a bored manner, uncovering sprigs of grass and lazily chomping them.
He was large and terrifying enough that nothing would trouble him while we were gone, I supposed.
I jogged to catch up with Thalia’s long-legged strides. Phantom shifted into his dog form and loped ahead of us, sniffing at clumps of withered flowers and snapping at the floating specks of purplish-blue light in the air. Those specks grew more numerous the farther we walked. I thought they were fireflies at first, until some of them began to dart about in a strange manner, occasionally forming a glowing outline of a larger creature—spectral, winged beasts that were there one instant, gone the next. I started to slow to a stop, watching one of them more closely, but Thalia urged me on.
“We need to hurry,” she reminded me, gaze darting toward the distance, where the darkness was absolute. Her hand gripped her staff so tightly her knuckles turned white.
I did my best to ignore the strange glowing creatures as we walked on—even though they seemed to be curiously, timidly following us.
At the end of the path, we came to a small area where the ground was covered in silver grass. The trees here had actual leaves still on them, iridescent and papery-thin, their edges shimmering like dragonfly wings caught in a wash of moonlight. A fine mist drifted over everything, adding to the shimmering effect—and to the cold sinking into my bones. The air was heavy with the scent of earth and moss, and filled with a soft rustling, like the brush of unseen wings—or perhaps the whispers of unseen spirits.
In the center of it all, a stone archway curved over a freestanding door made of dark wood. The wood gleamed as if lit from the inside, casting intricate patterns of light and shadow over the various symbols carved into it. I walked a wide circle around it all; there was nothing noteworthy on the back side— just another stretch of grey sand, and a smooth wall of stone where I’d expected the back of the wooden door to be.
It all felt… ancient . Timeless. As though it had been here long before any living creature, and it would remain long after all of them had perished.
“What is this place?” My voice came out hushed.
“The Nerithys Gate .”
“Nerithys…as in the realm where the Aetherstone resides?”
She nodded.
“So you can access that realm by passing through here?”
“In theory, yes. Though the gate doesn’t yield to just anybody.”
I cautiously stepped forward, studying the stone arch and its doorway more closely. Brushing aside a small bit of moss, I noticed that the bottom of the arch on either side of the door had a small footing jutting outward, each with an opening sliced into the stone. “Two openings…for two blades?”
“Exactly.”
“Grimnor and Luminor.”
“Yes.”
Still uncertain about my ability to wield the infamous Sword of Shadows, I asked, “Is it possible to open it without those two blades?”
Thalia seemed to be caught off guard by the question. “It would take exceptionally powerful magic to do so, but…maybe? The swords are undoubtedly the easiest method, though. The intended method.”
“Has anyone tried to open it lately?”
“Not lately. We have records of prior openings, warnings from our kind about the dangerous place Nerithys was becoming. Of the Light Keepers who patrol the realm on behalf of Lorien Blackvale, but…”
“But things have likely changed since the last time anyone went through it, I take it? We don’t truly know what we’ll be facing once we pass through this door?”
“I’m afraid not,” she said.
And the weight of the upcoming Equinox grew heavier, still.
Wrapping my coat more tightly around myself, I walked away from the door, trying to slow my racing thoughts.
The trees in the area were sparse, and after a short walk, they gave way to rolling hills covered in more silver grass—grass that was gleaming from the light of the creatures floating above it. More of them were taking on larger, more definite shapes, now, and I was certain I wasn’t imagining what I saw; they were foxlike, almost, with sharp faces and bushy tails—but they also had small, sleek wings.
“ Vaekin ,” Thalia informed me.
A realization occurred to me as I watched the creatures soar, tumble, and swoop over the landscape. “I’ve seen very few animals in this world.”
“Many have perished, with our world’s limited, remaining energy being channeled elsewhere and focused on saving as many people as possible. There’s a sanctuary in the South District of Tarnath, however, preserving all different sorts of creatures. And a few other such sanctuaries are still holding on in cities like Erebos. So, when our world is righted once more…hopefully we’ll be able to rebuild populations of things.”
I watched Phantom run in circles, trying and failing to catch one of the glowing creatures. He would come close to snapping a tail between his jaws, only for the vaekin to shift back into a mere speck of light with a high-pitched noise that sounded eerily similar to laughter.
“These aren’t typical fauna, though. The more intelligent of these creatures serve as occasional messengers between the realms,” Thalia said, “and they gather here because this is the point where the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest. The gate is here, but several of Argoth’s roads are also nearby.”
“How did Argoth build those roads?” I asked—a question that had been nagging at me for some time. “He wasn’t capable of any powerful magic, was he?”
“He didn’t build them, truly; they were already here, from back when the two worlds coexisted alongside one another. He merely found ways to open them up again. There’s quite a bit of debate as to how . Ask your brother about it, if you ever have a spare five hours to kill.” Her smile was slight. “He’ll give you all the details about it, whether you like it or not.”
I smiled a bit, as well, thinking about how nice it would have been to have the sort of time to just sit in one of the palace’s cozy studies, curled up by a roaring fire reading books or listening to my brother regale me with stories of history and magic.
I held out my hand to one of the vaekin that seemed particularly curious. It cautiously sniffed my palm several times, and then its body twisted around my arm with a fluid grace before it snorted into my ear and shot off toward the sky.
“They can travel freely in both worlds?” I asked, rubbing my ear.
“They’re more stable in this one, but yes, they’re capable of going into the Above. One of the few creatures we know of that can. Much like your dog.”
“…My dog?”
“Phantom is a vae hound . Like the vaekin, his kind are born of the energy of this world, and the first of their species was personally shaped by a Vaelora’s hand and infused with their magic. They don’t live and die in a natural way; their energy is more fluid, capable of something like reincarnation—much like the magic of the Vaelora themselves. Which is why you were able to keep him from dying, I suspect, even without your fully-realized powers. And why he regained even more of his form once he returned to this world. Because even though he’s able to find form and power in both worlds, this world is his true home.” Her voice softened a bit as she added, “You two sort of have that in common.”
The dog in question was currently on his back, paws in the air, feigning surrender. Trying to lure the vaekin in with a false sense of security—I’d seen him use the same tactic with the birds back in Orin’s yard. It coaxed another small smile from me, despite the battles and uncertainties piling up around us.
“Your brother sent him to you, you know. There are a few wild packs of these dogs that roam close to Tarnath; he found your Phantom abandoned by one of them. A dangerous thing to take in, but…” She shook her head, a reluctant fondness in her expression. “The Regent has done far more dangerous things, I guess.”
I should have been flooded with gratitude, maybe. Because Phantom had saved my life more than once, and in more ways than one.
All I could think about, though, was how strange it was that I’d received such an enormous gift from this other world—this other life—and yet the truth had still been kept from me.
“Yet another thing I’ve spent years being clueless about,” I muttered.
Thalia tilted her face toward me, a rare shimmer of sympathy in her eyes.
“I just…I don’t understand how Orin could have kept so much from me.”
“He’s not a particularly good man,” she said flatly. “Though he serves his purpose for us well enough, I suppose.” Despite her measured tone, there was obvious hurt simmering in her expression—I’d noticed it a few times, now, whenever the subject of Orin came up.
Curiosity got the better of me, this time, and I couldn’t help but ask, “How well do you know him?”
“Not as well as I would have liked to.”
“What does that mean?”
She exhaled a slow, exasperated breath. “It means he abandoned me twenty-five years ago, shortly after you were born.”
“Abandoned…so he lived in this kingdom?”
“Yes.”
I stared at her, an uncomfortable possibility pressing into my thoughts. Her eyes . That strange amethyst shade…I’d seen similar eyes in only one other person. “Was he…is he related to you?”
A muscle ticked in her jaw. “My father.”
The words stole the breath from my lungs.
How many times was it going to happen—this feeling of being punched in the gut with knowledge?
How many more things was I clueless about?
“He chose to leave this palace so he could look after you, once the decision was made that your magic would overwhelm you if you stayed here,” she said. “And aside from a brief trip to bring your brother back to us, he hasn’t returned.”
Her cold, aloof attitude toward me suddenly made some sense—because it must have seemed like I’d stolen her father away from her. Another monstrous thing I’d inadvertently done.
Feeling sick to my stomach, I sank into a crouch, absently reaching for the vaekin that had started trying to unravel the laces of my boots.
“His duty as one of the Aethers always came first,” Thalia continued. “I don’t have many clear memories of our time together—I was only six when he left to protect you instead—but I do remember the distance he kept even before you came along. The distracted look that was always in his eyes, and how quick he was to race off to practice magic whenever he could.
“My magic is relatively weak, and so, I think…I think I was a disappointment to him. I don’t believe he even loved my mother, either; she was merely a servant in the palace, and—as you know—the Aetherkin live unnaturally long lives, and so I doubt she was his first or last love. She died years ago. We almost never talked about him, but…” She trailed off with a shrug.
I didn’t know what to say.
What could I possibly have said?
I had plenty of memories of him as a very different sort of man than the one she was describing. People were complex, after all—paintings made up of all different shades, strokes of light and dark that created depth on a canvas. But I kept this thought to myself. Somehow, I doubted she was ready to hear any heartwarming stories about the lighter shades of her father—especially not from me.
Instead, I rose slowly back to my full height, looking over my shoulder at the gateway in the distance, and I tried to keep the conversation focused on learning more about the realms and the tasks before me. “He traveled freely between the different worlds, then?”
“Relatively speaking. It takes a lot of magic to manage it—it’s not something anyone can do on a regular basis anymore, aside from a Vaelora with fully realized powers.”
“Could he have come with me this last time, though?”
“Maybe. But we need a presence in the Above, and it was agreed upon that he would stay there. They’ve been discussing it for some time, via messengers like the vaekin.”
My cheeks burned from a combination of anger and embarrassment over my lack of knowledge. “So my coming here, and you finding me and bringing me to the palace…it was all orchestrated?”
“Only some parts. We didn’t know how your magic would react once you returned to Noctaris, so we could only plan so much. Orin purposely guided you to a point far from the Rivenholt Palace—where the energy of this world was weaker—so your powers would have more time to acclimate before you made your way to us. We thought you would be quicker, though; your magic should have led you directly here. But you veered from the shortest path, for whatever reason, and toward Aleksander instead—we certainly didn’t expect you to find the Light King and drag him along with you into our royal city.”
“That wasn’t in my plans, either,” I muttered.
We were quiet for several minutes. I continued studying our surroundings while trying to balance under the weight of everything Thalia had said. She stood by the gate, her hands occasionally smoothing over the stone arch. She paused several times with her palm against that arch and her head bowed, as if praying. Maybe to the ones who had made the gate, whoever—or whatever—they might have been.
I didn’t want to keep poking her wounds, but I couldn’t help the curiosity still burning inside me. “I didn’t think the Aetherkin ever had children,” I said. “I assumed they remained celibate, like the Vaelora were expected to.”
“It’s true that it wasn’t typical for them to have children. But almost all of the ones who served Calista eventually did. Desperation became a factor when no Vaelora reappeared in Noctaris, even centuries after Calista’s death…and once they realized their children were almost always able to learn how to draw out and manipulate the magic of our world, even if it was to a lesser extent than their parents.”
“…The feyth,” I realized, piecing this together with my lessons from Eamon.
She nodded but averted her eyes. “Sometimes, I think he wanted to have me merely out of a misguided sense of duty— because this world needed more beings who could control its fading magic and keep it going until a more permanent solution was found. And I don’t think I’m the only one who came about because of this. There are a few of us within the palace.”
“Like Eamon, you mean?”
“Yes. Though he doesn’t like to talk about it; both of his parents were Aetherkin, actually. They died sacrificing themselves to fuel the vivaris flames of Erebos.”
“Sacrificing themselves?”
“Yes—in order to carry out a ritualistic pouring of their magic into those flames. That city burns to this day because of them. Kaelen is Eamon and Brynn’s uncle, though Brynn had never met him before our encounter. He is Aetherkin as well, and the last remaining Keeper of the vivaris. He continues to tend to the fires partly in memory of his sister and her sacrifice.”
I shook off the uncomfortable feeling creeping through me. I didn’t want to think of Kaelen, or wonder what had become of him after our dramatic encounter.
Instead, I wondered at yet another unexpected revelation surrounding his niece; I hadn’t witnessed Brynn controlling any Shadow magic—but she’d managed to find and follow mine. She’d truly seen me, even as a shade. Was it because of some latent power that had reached automatically for mine?
I thought about puzzling this over with Thalia, but her gaze had become distant. Walled off.
“We should probably head back toward the palace,” she said without looking at me.
I didn’t argue and, as we walked, I decided it was time to change the subject. “The glow of the vaekin reminds me of a festival I once attended back in my old kingdom,” I commented. “The Moonweaver Festival. The city was full of lanterns that night, all of them glowing with a similar bluish-purple light.”
She angled her gaze my way to show she was listening. We fell into a friendly enough conversation, despite the questions still lingering in the air.
The night of that festival was one of my clearest memories…perhaps because it was the only time I recalled Orin ever truly getting mad at me.
Two years ago, the King of Elarith—or the one posing as him, I supposed—had descended upon my kingdom with the goal of gaining even more favor among the subjects of Eldris. He’d taken one of our oldest traditions and put his own hands on it, sparing no expense to create a celebration that the people of Eldris still talked about, even to this day. The glitz and glamor had won over even some of his staunchest opposers.
Only a few had seen it as the propaganda it truly was.
I remembered every detail. The sky thick with stars overhead; the floating lanterns tethered to colorful strings; the dancers spinning in their dazzling, gem-studded costumes; the firework cannons igniting, exploding high in the air and showering the laughing, applauding crowds with smoke and sparks.
I’d worn a dress the color of blood and shadows—fully prepared to end up with both on my hands before the night was over with—and I’d stolen one of those cannons and aimed it at the king as he paraded down the street.
I was one of several rebels who caused chaos that night.
But I was the only one who had aimed directly for the king.
The only one who had still been standing in front of him when the smoke cleared, a clear message easy to read on my lips: Leave .
A reckless challenge, I could admit. Especially all these years later. And it felt even more dubious, after all I’d recently learned—that it wasn’t even the actual King of Elarith that I’d been aiming for. His face had been covered by an elaborate mask, with most of his ceremonial motions taking place while heavily surrounded and shielded by his Keepers, and now I understood why.
I still didn’t regret anything I’d done that night.
Because something had awakened in me the moment I fired my cannon. Something that had grown even stronger during the ensuing pandemonium.
I’d ruined the party. Had been branded an outcast and a menace more loudly than ever before. And so it was that night when I realized—or maybe admitted —I’d entirely lost any claim to my kingdom. That my subjects were blinded by a foreign king’s light, his riches, by the celebrations he could conjure to cover up his atrocities, and they always would be, unless I could come up with a better way to show them the truth.
Standing alone with the smoke and screams settling around me, I’d fully committed myself to my desperate plan of traveling into the Underworld to retrieve the sword that had ruined my life and kingdom.
Two years since that fateful decision.
It had all led to this—to the waves of impossible revelations and impending revolutions rising around me now.
All from a single strike of a cannon’s fuse.
The memory of igniting that cannon rekindled my sense of urgency . As interesting as my conversations with Thalia had been, I was eager to get back to the palace, to a relatively safer place where I could sit and make sense of all these new things before they slipped through my fingers.
And, as annoying as it was, Aleks was the only person I could imagine talking through all of these difficult things with.
I didn’t have a chance to track him down, though; we returned to the palace to find it abuzz with activity when we stepped inside, and we were immediately surrounded by a swarm of hurried servants and panicked guards.
“What’s going on?” Thalia demanded.
Before any of the guards could answer, my brother strode toward us, parting the crowd as he came. He breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of us, the tension in his features loosening for an instant.
“Bastian?” Thalia pressed.
He took a step closer, his eyes flicking over me as if searching for any signs of injury, before he took a deep breath and said, “Someone tried to break into the chamber where the swords are being kept, and they killed two of our guards in the process.”