Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Nova
I was reaching toward the floating Sword of Light, but I was rooted in place, my eyes fixed on the closed doors.
Zayn stepped closer, blocking my view of the exit, his hands still shoved casually into his pockets—as if this was just an extension of the stroll we’d been enjoying together.
“Go ahead,” he said, nodding at the sword. “I think it’s time you knew the truth.”
I suspected I already knew it.
I forced myself to move closer to the center pedestal, anyway, reaching up and swiping for Luminor’s grip with a shaking hand. The sword was surrounded by powerful energy that made my bones feel as if they might splinter as I pressed toward it, but I managed to push through, to gently grasp the handle and pull it lower.
I laid a few fingers against the base of the blade.
It was a testament to how much control I’d gained over my abilities these past weeks, that I was able to focus on my task. To zero my thoughts in on the exact night, the exact moments I needed to see, ignoring the present moment even as Zayn drew nearer.
Show me, I thought, desperately. Please, please show me what I need to see—
Colors and shapes swirled behind my eyelids. Banners of blue and silver; a soaring white building overlooking a sweeping veranda with tiled floors; a night sky scattered with stars; vine-wrapped columns…
Rose Point.
I was back at Rose Point.
Bodies flickered into view. Most remained hazy in the background, their chatter an incomprehensible blur of noise. But I could feel the vibrations of their shuffling feet, could smell the spices of the food they were eating, along with the acrid sweetness of their wine…
I felt a pounding in my chest, and I wasn’t sure if it was my own heart or the pulsing magic of the sword I was touching. Either way, it soon grew painful. Loud. Slowly, but surely rising, blaring out all other things.
Thump. Thump. THUMP—
Then it stopped, everything stopped, as the vision centered on a person holding Luminor. It was an odd angle, and the image of him was somewhat distorted—like I was watching the scene play out upon the reflective surface of the blade.
But I recognized the tattooed arms steadying the sword.
Zayn.
The familiar, complex tapestry of inked vines and thorns…but now I noticed a new symbol tucked alongside one of those thorns. It was glowing—a small circle that flared like a beacon in the fog. Radiating from its center were rays of light that grew progressively brighter toward the middle, and two crescent shapes curved away from the circle on either side, like blades protecting the light within it. The center of this symbol was the only thing that remained visible as smoke exploded through the memory, just as smoke had exploded on the veranda that fateful night.
I felt what happened next, as much as I saw it—as though the sword was alive , absorbing the emotions of its handler. And it felt like a thousand years of hatred rolled into a single movement, an almost unfathomable amount of fury all condensed to a single, powerful thrust. I could sense the moment the sword pierced flesh, too. The warm blood running down the blade, as if it was running down my own arm.
Except, it wasn’t my blood.
It was my father’s.
His face swam into the vision a heartbeat later. As distorted as everything else, yet the anguish in his expression was painfully clear.
I wanted to look away, to wake up, to escape this horror that I’d already relived a thousand times on my own, in my far-too-clear memories…
Then another person appeared in the vision, holding me in place—
Aleksander .
His hands closed around Luminor’s hilt. Again, I could feel the emotions being channeled through the weapon. Memories of confusion, of shock, of pain. And now I realized he hadn’t been the one to bloody that blade; he was only trying to assess the damage, to make sense of the chaos just as I’d been trying to.
My own face came next. I barely recognized the young woman shining in this dulled mirror of memory. I felt removed from the rage on her shadowed face, far away from her fear and floating somewhere high above.
Or maybe I simply didn’t want to recognize myself.
Because what a fool I’d been.
I’d had enough. My eyes shot open. I stared at Zayn, heaving for breath, still in disbelief in spite of the evidence in front me. The tattoo on his arm was pulsing, its golden light brightest at the center of the circle, just like in the vision. I’d never noticed it before—but maybe I just hadn’t paid close enough attention.
What else had I missed?
So many things I likely could have seen, if only I’d had the courage to open my eyes. But I’d been so afraid to see the truth about Aleksander—so afraid of being wrong about him—that I’d completely overlooked the horror standing right next to him.
“See anything interesting?” Zayn asked, with a knowing little smirk.
I swallowed, trying to clear a path for words. “You...you killed him.”
“A murder that was long overdue. He never should have taken you in and gotten himself mixed up in this war. He was a king of the Above—why he agreed to help the Below, I’ll never understand. He paid the price for it, though. And your mother will, too, before I’m finished.”
“…You knew about both worlds all along.”
“Oh, I know much more than that.”
“ How ?”
He didn’t reply, but the golden light of that symbol on his arm shifted, creating the illusion of movement, making me think of a serpent slinking its way out from underneath the vines it had been hiding amongst.
As I watched it glistening, a chilling, awful possibility burrowed its way into my heart and refused to budge.
“…What is that mark on your arm?” I whispered.
He glanced at it, as if just now noticing the way it pulsed and moved. “You had a similar one, before your keepers in the Above started working to shackle your powers, trying to convince me your magic was fading, that you weren’t worth paying attention to—as though I would fall for their tricks.”
My mind raced, desperate to remember all the things I’d learned since making my way into this palace.
What was it Thalia had said? The only beings who could travel freely between the two worlds were the Vaelora. Was this how he had seen me the night of the Moonweaver Festival? And all the other things I had no explanation for…the seemingly random reactions of my bracelet…the strange comatose states Aleks had suffered until I came along…and what else, what else—
“You look troubled, Princess.”
My gaze darted up to his. “You’re…” My words caught in my throat.
His smile grew, arrogant and cold, and the sight flooded my body with furious heat.
I lifted my chin and looked him directly in the eyes. I would say his name, and I would not be afraid.
At least in that moment, I refused to let myself be afraid.
“Lorien Blackvale.” My voice came out hushed but strong. “Your ability to take over different bodies isn’t a myth.”
“So clever. As I’ve come to expect from you over these past few weeks.” He stepped closer. I started to reach for Grimnor’s handle. But his focus shifted away from me—to the blade floating behind me, instead.
The edges of his body began to glow faintly, as if his magic was waking in the presence of Luminor. Or maybe he was simply no longer bothering to suppress it, to hide his true identity.
I didn’t know how he’d hidden it from me these past weeks—how he’d hidden it from so many others for so long. But now my own magic was rising in answer to his; more undeniable evidence that he was harboring a power greater than anything I could have guessed at.
Little wisps of darkness lifted from me, and as I watched them twist and tumble, I heard myself whisper, “How is this possible?”
He dropped his gaze to mine. “I have prevailed through centuries, watching Noctaris fade away through a dozen different sets of eyes, waiting for the day when the last of its life-force, the last of its magic, finally expired. And it was so close to being finished .
“Calista should have been the last of the Shadow Vaelora. The ending I gave her should have made it impossible for her magic to be reborn.” He rolled his shoulders, as though shifting the weight of all those centuries upon them. “Then, twenty-five years ago, you were born, somehow. I knew it the moment it happened, because I felt it through the bond the two Vaelora always share—your first breath was like a knife twisting in my chest. And your magic… ” His gaze trailed over me, a slow probing that made my skin crawl. “It was something to behold, even while we were in separate worlds.”
The sword was forgotten, all of Lorien’s focus and intensity now on me.
I fought the urge to take a step back.
I will not show fear.
“They tried to hide you. To whisk you away to a place where your magic wouldn’t grow as quickly or noticeably. But I found you soon enough.”
Another icy realization crept down the back of my neck, and my composure nearly slipped. “…You’re the one who tried to kill my brother and me when we were babies.”
His smile turned into more of a snarl. “Emphasis on tried. But your magic combined with his and reacted in an unpredictable way.” Another roll of his shoulders, and I had the crazy, unsettling thought that there was a more monstrous version of him contained within Zayn’s skin, pushing and prodding, searching for a way out.
“It… dismantled me, for a bit,” he continued. “But I still kept a foothold in the Above realm, thanks to my loyal servants who kept vigil.”
“…The Light Keepers.”
“ Three years .” He circled me slowly, the movement casual yet predatory. “That’s how long it took me to regain my grip on my powers. For three years, my spirit resided in Luminor’s blade, healing and regenerating while kept under lock and key by the Keepers. Once I managed to fully regain my powers and consciousness, I found myself in need of a new body.”
“So you stole Zayn’s?”
“Well, he wasn’t my first target.”
The room shifted and spun, and my stomach twisted as it occurred to me who that first target had likely been.
My gaze shifted toward the door, calculating. Torn between a need to escape and a need to know . He seemed to be getting a sickening, arrogant sort of joy out of keeping me pinned here by telling me one horrifying thing after another, and—despite the warnings firing through me—I couldn’t bring myself to run away from these answers I was finally hearing.
“By this point, my Light Keepers and I had a new plan,” he said, “not to attempt to kill you, but to eventually steal you away to Elarith, pairing you with its future king, so that we might find a way to collar you and control your magic—rather than trying to destroy you and risk another setback like the one I’d already endured.”
“The future king…you mean Aleksander.”
He lifted a hand and guided a strand of light around one of my shadows, pulling it toward him. It hovered above his palm, casting a strange golden-tinged darkness over his eyes as he said, “Every other being I’ve possessed over these past centuries has succumbed immediately to my control. Only one has ever managed to fight back. To escape from my grasp.”
The story Aleks had told me about his sickness and his scars—and all the nightmares that had followed—suddenly made perfect sense. “It wasn’t an illness that nearly overcame him as a child…it was you .”
Lorien crushed the tangle of shadow and light in his fist, and when he unfolded his fingers, a pure, brightly burning flame of gold had taken its place. “It would have been poetic, I thought—the descendant of Argoth in my control, luring the vessel of Calista’s magic into my grasp, keeping her from intervening with the ultimate demise of Noctaris, adding to the tragedy of them .”
“But he forced you out.” My words came out hushed, again, this time from a mixture of astonishment and something aching and awful as I thought of how strong Aleks must have been to have fought back against such a powerful being—and how frightened , trying to make sense of these monstrous things when he was only a child.
The furious heat from before returned, burning so fiercely now that it blurred my vision.
“Yes,” Lorien said, his smile finally falling a bit in the corners. “He fought back, forcing me to settle for his closest advisor and the next in line to the throne: His cousin.”
“But you still allowed Aleks to live?”
“ Allowed ?” he scoffed. “Not exactly. He should have died upon my exit, but he didn’t. And—you might have noticed—he has far more magic, and far more of a connection to you , than he should have.”
More of the story Aleks had told me flashed through my mind, reminding me of how surprised I’d been to learn that his magic wasn’t innate, as most thought it was; he’d developed it after the strange sickness he’d survived.
Of course.
“…Your magic is still tied to him, isn’t it?” I breathed, terror squeezing my heart, even though I could only guess at the implications of it all.
How deeply—how dangerously—intertwined were they?
“Yes.” His fist clenched, and the golden flame burned brighter above it, as if fueled by his anger. “So we did what we could to hone that magic and keep him under our thumb, so that he might prove a useful pawn to us, rather than a thorn in our sides. We figured we could use him as bait to lure you in, if nothing else.”
I bristled at the idea of him being reduced to mere bait. My hand moved once more to Grimnor’s grip, while my eyes stayed narrowed on the monster taking shape before me.
Lorien gave my hold on the sword a cursory glance, but continued without commenting on it. “But on the night of what should have been your betrothal,” he said, “your father tried to back out of our agreement. I don’t think he’d ever truly intended to go through with it; he was merely trying to draw us in so he could get closer to our secrets. He had suspicions about the Light Keepers, of course. I don’t know how much he actually knew—but he was getting far too curious about me. My patience with him ran out. So, he was dealt with.”
Dealt with.
I shifted my stance, preparing to withdraw Grimnor. “And you thought I would still agree to marry into Elarithian royalty after you killed him?”
“Of course not.” He arched a brow. “But I am not above simply taking what I want when negotiations fall through. Whether as a future queen or a prisoner, we were going to leave Rose Point with you in our control. I tried to grab you before you made it to your father that night—you don’t even realize the magic you unleashed in that moment, do you? How you protected yourself? You slipped through my grasp in the banquet hall, I followed you outside, and…well, we both know what happened next, don’t we? Those damned shadows of yours sent me spiraling down into this hell.”
My heart was in my throat, its relentless pounding making it hard to breathe. The magic I’d loathed for so long, all the destruction and despair my shadows had caused…
It seemed they had only been sparing me from a far worse fate.
Lorien took another step closer to me, his gaze shifting once more to my hold on Grimnor, lingering this time. He seemed to be daring me to draw it out.
And those damned shadows of mine grew more restless beneath my skin, catching the fire building in my heart, whipping it into an even more frantic beat that pounded through my body like a war drum.
“I hope it hurt when you hit the ground,” I snarled, locking my eyes onto his.
He chuckled darkly. “Don’t worry—it did. My powers are weaker in Noctaris, and that, combined with the magic you struck me with, and my ties to Aleksander and Luminor…it’s all made the last seven years interesting, to say the least. But I managed to slip back to the surface a few times—just enough to orchestrate things regarding the imposter on the Elarithian throne, and to watch you and the plans you were making.”
“…You knew I was planning to come here?”
“I did. And I saw an opportunity to not only meet you here, but to regain some of my lost power. Because I knew Luminor had fallen, too, and I assumed it was being held somewhere within this cursed Below—but I was unable to find this palace on my own, due to the spell Calista protected it with.”
Another realization crawled through me, and the horror must have been obvious on my face, because Lorien’s smile brightened once more.
“That’s right,” he said. “If your foolish handlers hadn’t feared you and your power so much, if they had just left you in this palace in the first place, I likely wouldn’t have found you until it was too late. But they chose otherwise. So here we are. And I did want to thank you, dear Nova, for leading me into the heart of Noctaris’s last stronghold, and reuniting me with my sword.”
“…It was you who tried to break into this chamber,” I gasped, gaze darting toward the Sword of Light, which had started to rock unsteadily in the air. “You slaughtered the guards…and silenced Rowen and Farren too, didn’t you?”
“Clever again.” The glow around his body flickered brighter, and his golden brown eyes seemed to take on a reddish hue—as did the center of his Vaeloran mark—as he said, “They knew too much. I’ve been periodically pulling out their memories with my magic over the years, so they didn’t remember my returns to the Above, or other sensitive information, but the task of keeping them oblivious was becoming tiresome. I had to seek a more permanent solution.”
I pictured the still bodies of Rowen and Farren. Their red-ribbon throats, their forever-silenced tongues, their pale skin and empty gazes…
I swallowed hard, forcing a calmness into my voice that I didn’t in any way feel. “What are you planning to do now? And why ?”
“Can’t you guess?” His eyes—still disturbingly close to the color of blood—darted between Luminor and Grimnor before settling back on my face. “There isn’t enough magic to sustain both worlds, and there never will be again. But there is a chance at creating something greater—imagine the Above in all its current glory, but with all that remains of Noctaris’s power and magic added to it, as well.”
“…And with you as its ruler?”
He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze calculating as he looked me over. “You could rule at my side, if you wanted to. The Vaelora are always stronger together, after all.”
“You would sacrifice this entire realm, even after all the time you’ve spent in it? Even after seeing the life that still clings to it?”
His expression remained unchanged. “This world is little more than ash and shadows, anyway. And its survivors don’t truly want you as their queen, by the way; they only care about what you can do for them. Their admiration will fade as soon as they believe their world is safe. It has always faded after the job is finished. For a millennia, our kind have been expected to sacrifice ourselves after fulfilling our duty, and so that is all we’ve been reduced to—mere tools to be discarded. But I am rewriting that narrative. Ending our servitude. And you could help me do it.”
“And you wouldn’t be using me?”
“No. Because I don’t need you like this world does; I simply want you.” He cocked his head, as though truly curious about my answer. Offering his hand to me, he asked, “Isn’t there a difference between the two?”
I stared at his outstretched hand. At the ribbons of deeply golden light moving around it, drawing in my shadows like a flame ensnaring moths.
And I couldn’t help considering his words.
Because there was a difference. I’d grown up painfully aware of that difference, surrounded by people who felt as though they needed to treat me a certain way, with a certain reverence, even though they didn’t truly want me in their presence.
“We don’t have to be enemies, Nova,” Lorien said, his tone shifting into something oddly gentle and… alluring . Like a calm stretch of cerulean sea, begging me to jump in. To not worry about the jagged rocks that might be lurking below the surface.
I wondered what it would be like, to work side-by-side with someone who carried the same mark as me, who truly understood the weight of the magic that mark represented. A weight, a burden, that I feared would make it impossible for anyone else to ever truly want me—all of me.
I thought of reaching back.
Just for a moment, I thought of reaching back.
Then I withdrew my sword instead, easing the tip of it into his chest.
The glow around his body flashed brighter, sending a wave of electricity snaking up my sword, burning into my arm.
I refused to flinch.
Lorien kept his gaze leveled with mine, never once glancing at the sword or magic between us. “You really do favor her. No blood relation, but the dark magic weaving through your body has certainly left its mark.”
I squeezed Grimnor’s handle more tightly.
He tilted his face closer to mine, his lips barely parting with the words as he added, “And it’s as I suspected: Wielding that sword makes you look even more like her.”
He was too close, his eyes too hungry, and I had the unsettling feeling that he was no longer seeing me at all—he saw only the woman he believed had wronged him all those years ago.
The one he’d been plotting his revenge against for centuries.
“I am not her,” I said in a quiet, seething voice.
“No,” he agreed, leaning back slightly, “but I suspect ruining you will be almost as satisfying.”