What Blooms from Death

Chapter 47

Chapter Forty-Seven

Aleksander

Hours later—after a series of tense discussions and difficult decisions—the Nerithys Gate loomed before us, a towering archway of weathered stone with a dark wooden door encased in its embrace. The intricate symbols etched into the door caught what remained of the dreary daylight, shimmering like eyes slowly blinking open, awakening at our approach.

The air was thick, saturated with a scent that had become all too familiar—ash and dry earth. It clung to everything Lorien and his magic had touched, I was noticing. It had lingered in the chamber where we’d found Nova days ago. It had been present this morning, too, when he tried to invade her mind. I hadn’t told her, and I wouldn’t, but I couldn’t ignore how the smell seemed to have twisted even her natural clean, floral scent. Now there was a smoky undercurrent, a subtle but undeniable mark left on her—another scar to accompany the ones Lorien had left on her skin.

Days had passed since he had physically moved within this realm, but his presence remained, an ever-present shadow that only thickened the sense of unease surrounding us.

There were no signs of life here, save for our own, but soon, a low, hissing wind stirred the heavy stillness. Faintly, almost imperceptibly, I thought I heard a voice drifting within it—a whisper that swelled and ebbed, sometimes rising to a note that made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

I couldn’t tell if it was beckoning us forward or warning us to turn back.

“Do you hear that?” Nova asked, softly, her hand steady against Phantom, who stood alert, his ears flattened, fur bristling with dark energy that spiraled from his coat like smoke.

“I was hoping I was imagining it,” I said, gaze fixed on the gate ahead.

“It sounds… angry .”

The other leaders of our group soon joined us, their anxious chatter drowning out whatever wind-swept whispers we might have otherwise heard.

Our small army folded around us as well. I resisted the urge to count them again; the number grew no more impressive, no matter how many times I added them up in hopes that they might have miraculously turned into more. The crumbling, increasingly useless spells over the palace had left fewer and fewer souls standing as the day had pressed on; by the time we left out, only three dozen soldiers had been deemed fit enough to make the journey with us.

All together, we totaled less than fifty.

Less than fifty souls standing against the greatest threat the realms had ever known.

I breathed in deeply through my nose, trying to settle the squeezing sense of panic that kept trying to rise up and take hold of my heart. Again and again, I settled it. Glancing at the scars on Nova’s skin proved helpful, too; the sight of them reignited my furious, burning resolve every time.

We would make our way to Nerithys—to Lorien—even if it meant I had to pry this damn gate apart with my bare hands.

“The gate opens easiest at Equinox, of course,” Thalia said to the crowd pressing closer to us. “But enough magic can open it at any given time, and it gets progressively easier to do this with every day closer to Equinox. So…”

“So we’ll manage,” said Nova, moving closer to the gate.

I stepped forward alongside her, masking my usual skepticism; it wouldn’t do us any good, now.

She took a deep breath before cutting her eyes toward me. “Together?”

“Together.”

We moved before any more doubt could creep in.

If nothing else, getting away from the Rivenholt Palace—and the lingering protections Calista had left—had been a positive move for my own magic; it no longer felt like it was being suffocated. It rose easily from my outstretched palms.

Nova mirrored my movements, and soon we’d both managed to call forth equal amounts of our respective powers. They rose as shimmering tendrils of light and dark, slowly drifting toward one another, rising without hesitation despite the heavy air.

What had once been a chaotic meeting of clashing energies now moved with purpose and grace, effortlessly weaving in and out, twisting tighter and tighter together until there was no space in between. The threads of twisting power combined more fully above the arch, shaping into a spiraling column that was illuminated and shaded in turn. It spun for a moment before dividing once more into two strands—ribbons that each carried a predominant magic, but also a hint of the opposite magic, now.

With precise guidance from our hands, the ribbons dove and skimmed along the stone arch. There were pedestals on either side of this arch—places meant for the Swords of Light and Shadow to rest and channel their power. Our magic sank into them, filling in the grooves and awakening the ancient mechanisms hidden within.

All the symbols on the door flared brighter. The stone arch lit up with equal boldness. As we shielded our eyes, a loud, sharp sound rattled through the area—like ice cracking and snow shifting on a mountaintop, echoing through a deep valley.

When it all settled, most of the arch remained, save for a few chipped shards.

But the door lay in a thousand splintered pieces upon the dusty ground.

A path of some kind was clearly opened; a swirling mass of grey and white energy now waited where the wooden door had once stood.

Beckoning us.

But to enter it meant stepping over the shattered remnants of the once imposing gate—a pile of sharp, broken things that seemed ominous, at best.

If we stepped into that chaotic-looking portal, could we come back the same way?

We all hesitated.

Nova crouched down, carefully sifting through the broken splinters of wood and bits of stone. “What have we done?” she breathed. “What does this mean?”

Bastian knelt beside her, his expression grim. He started to speak several times before seemingly deciding on an explanation. “The realms, and the paths between them, aren’t as they once were…and you two aren’t exactly like the Vaelora of centuries past. I wouldn’t expect everything to go as smoothly as it once did for the usual incarnations of those beings. Especially without the Swords of Shadow and Light in your hands.”

“Either way, the path is open, right?” said Thalia, taking a cautious but determined step forward. “No turning back, now.”

Nova straightened, her eyes shining a strange shade of blue as she stared down the glowing portal. “Onward, then.”

Despite the unanswered questions hanging over us, no one disagreed.

Phantom bounded ahead of us all—only to stop just shy of the gate, pacing and whining.

“He’s gotten used to being solid and normal in this realm,” Bastian said. “The energies in Nerithys might not react kindly with his…interesting, shifting existence.”

Alarm overtook Nova’s face. “Could it permanently harm him?”

Bastian didn’t answer, but the concerned furrow of his brow betrayed his thoughts.

The dog started to force himself closer to the portal anyway, but Nova caught him by the ruff around his neck and pulled him away. She hesitated before kneeling before him, her voice shaking slightly as she said, “Stay. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Phantom growled his disagreement but ultimately obeyed, slinking away. Nova clenched her hand into a fist and braced it against the ground, bowing her head as she collected herself. She took only seconds to do so; too many eyes were on her, waiting for her to lead them.

I offered a hand and helped her to her feet.

Side-by-side, we stepped through the gateway.

A feeling of falling immediately struck—like I’d missed a step on a steep staircase. I didn’t tumble far, but the landing was still jarring, and it was pitch dark at the bottom. So unnaturally dark that, for a moment, it seemed like I was the only being in existence. Like nothing else could possibly have existed in the nothingness around me, in this dark that swallowed up all scent and sound and sensation…

Twisted though it might have been, I was suddenly grateful for my time spent in the punishing Abyss back at my old palace; my experiences kept me from panicking, at least. I merely closed my eyes and searched for that calm place I kept buried deep inside of myself.

As I drifted within that still, inner place, I heard a faint breath in the darkness. Then a heartbeat. Then a pulse of magic that I recognized, even as all my other senses were dulled or outright failing me. My own magic answered automatically, lighting its jagged paths through my skin, cutting through this new abyss to answer that distant pulsing.

I took a few steps forward, following the pull of my magic, and I soon spotted Nova’s hand reaching out in the dark. Her eyes were slightly wide with fear as they met mine.

She glanced at the low ceiling my light had revealed. It was covered in hanging, crystalline structures, their sharp edges both beautiful and menacing; we appeared to be at the mouth of a cavernous tunnel of sorts. A relatively clear path stretched before us—the only way out. A palpable relief washed through us at the sight of our obvious next steps.

That relief lasted only seconds.

The light rising from my body was acting strangely, rapidly gathering near the ceiling, as if being pulled in by those odd crystals. They captured the light and magnified it with incredible, unnatural force, and our surroundings went from being shrouded in total darkness to being flooded with so much light that it was equally disorienting.

Blistering heat rapidly followed the eye-watering brightness.

Then came the sound of one of the crystals popping, followed by glistening shards raining down, pinging against the rocky ground.

Cursing under my breath, I attempted to pull some of my magic back. It did little good; even the slightest flicker of light was caught and reflected back with blinding ferocity and heat.

Meanwhile, one after the other, our allies were following us through the portal, cramming into the space and immediately finding themselves lost among the unbearable light and heat. Their sounds were strangely muffled—making me more and more certain unnatural spells and protections were at work here—but the panic rolling off them quickly became palpable.

Just as that panic started to sink its claws into me, I caught sight of a shadow rapidly encircling one of the crystals above. It pressed into the middle of the translucent structure like ink blossoming in water, dimming the light beaming from its center.

Understanding dawned over me. I closed my eyes and focused, no longer trying to pull my magic back, but instead holding it in place while Nova added her shadows to it.

The searing heat slowly cooled. Stillness overcame our crowd of allies. Curiosity overtook panic, and I opened my eyes to find Nova standing directly in front of me, cast in a soft, delicate light.

She was carefully studying the hanging crystal closest to us, her upturned gaze reflecting the swirling mass of our magic now balanced in its center. With precise movements of her hands, she continued to guide her shadows into other crystals near and far, until they were all filled with both our magics, and the entire tunnel was cast in the same muted, pleasant light and warmth that directly surrounded us.

“Traversing this path also requires balance, apparently,” she whispered, her tone a mixture of lingering panic and building awe as she lowered her gaze and looked around.

It was impossible not to be awed by the sight now surrounding us.

The balanced glow of our magic slowly, fully revealed the short tunnel ahead—the strange, colorful flowers along its floor, the walls lined with smooth, iridescent stones. There were faint, glowing symbols etched into some of those stones, pulsing with an energy that felt ancient and alive—much like what we’d witnessed on the gate itself.

The world beyond the passage beckoned. The mere glimpse we were able to see from where we stood revealed a wide expanse of fields, trees, and a smattering of rooftops, all bathed in an otherworldly white light.

Nova jogged ahead to get a better look. I followed closely behind, emerging more cautiously from the tunnel to find myself on top of a hill overlooking the ruins of what appeared to have been a sprawling city at one point. Vast plazas lay cracked and overgrown, connected by the shattered lines of an elaborate road system. The remains of houses were dotted along those broken roads, most of their walls sagging and crumbling into the earth, choked by vines and creeping ivy.

At the bottom of the hill lay a twisted, rusted, and half-buried gate that led into a barren courtyard. The courtyard was long and narrow, with the ruins of multiple walls dividing it. A central path led through it, up to a massive structure of battered stone and cracked marble…

The remnants of a palace.

Its shattered towers jutted up like broken bones, only partially visible above the outer defensive walls—but the main building appeared to be more or less intact, its bricks weathered but standing firm, the majority of its arched, ornate windows unbroken.

Beyond it all, far past the palace and the city behind it, lay a wide expanse of glimmering grey. A sea, perhaps. Its shimmering seemed oddly out of place in this otherwise still and silent world, and I briefly wondered what the rest of this place might look like under the light of a normal sky and sun.

“The Palace—and Kingdom—of Midna,” said Bastian, coming up behind us. “Or, what’s left of it, anyway. It was once the most powerful, most central kingdom in existence, back when Noctaris and Soltaris were part of one singular world. Some legends say the last King and Queen of Midna played a role in the formation of the Aetherstone—that they were duty-bound to the gods themselves to see that artifact created and protected.” He scanned the ruins, his eyes lighting up as they fell over what remained of the main palace. “This is actually in better shape than I expected; I imagine its rooms are full of all sorts of interesting things we could study…”

“Not really what we’re here for, unfortunately,” Thalia reminded him. “Though maybe we’ll survive long enough—and balance things well enough—that we’ll have a chance to explore and unearth more knowledge.”

“We survived getting here,” Nova said. “That’s a start, isn’t it?”

Her brother nodded. “We’re lucky we had you two back there.” Glancing over his shoulder toward the tunnel, he added, “The path to this realm and its Stone were meant for both of the Vaeloran to walk together, so that likely won’t be the last time we’ll need both of your respective magics.”

“It also further explains why Lorien needed to steal Grimnor, and Nova’s magic, to better balance his own powers,” Thalia said, already making her way down the hill.

Nodding in agreement, Bastian followed her.

Nova hesitated, her eyes glazed over in thought, the corners of her mouth drooping. I could read her well enough by now to guess at what she was feeling—guilt and regret over letting Lorien escape with that sword and everything else.

“Whatever he took,” I said, placing a hand on the small of her back and urging her onward, “it isn’t as powerful as you are. And he won’t be able to wield it as you can. He used it to get into this place—and for nothing more, for all we know.”

She gave a barely perceptible nod; it was the only response she had time for before the rest of our company caught up to us, forcing her to shift her expression into something more formidable. Something our doubters couldn’t question.

We crept carefully down the steep hill, making our way through the dilapidated entrance and into the skeletal remains of the courtyard. As we passed under what remained of the entry arch, the sky suddenly shifted, its milky white glow giving way to churning clouds of dark purple and blue.

Several members of our party gasped at the dramatic change in lighting, drawing to a stop.

The earth began to shiver beneath us. It was so subtle, at first, that I wondered if I was imagining it. But then it grew more violent, forcing me to brace a hand against what remained of the nearest wall. Little chips of stone rained down, joining loudly rattling piles on the dusty ground. One of the few trees still standing snapped with a series of startling cracks before falling forward, nearly striking two of our soldiers as it did.

The quaking lasted at least a minute.

Another minute passed before our party regrouped, gathering around and looking expectantly at Bastian for an explanation.

“…The lack of balance—and proper Vaelora—has clearly taken a toll on this realm as well,” he said.

We continued on. No one spoke. Most seemed to be trying to quiet their steps, their rattling armor, their very breathing . There was a lingering sense of something monstrous sleeping just beneath our feet, and no one wanted to wake it up.

But as we passed beyond the final defensive wall—into the innermost yard of the palace—silence seemed impossible. Gasps and confused whispers rang out at the sight that greeted us: Soldiers .

Countless soldiers frozen in various poses of action and stillness, all caught in a moment of time they were never allowed to finish. And the way they were all dressed…

“These are old uniforms of the Elarithian Army,” I said. My stomach twisted as I pointed to the sleeve of one of their jackets, which featured a crescent shape cradling a single, radiant star at its center, the star’s light spilling outward in sharp, clean lines. Swallowing away the sudden dryness in my throat, I added, “And this symbol is sometimes used by the Light Keepers.”

“…Is this Lorien’s army that we were so worried about encountering?” wondered Lord Kaelen, stepping forward. “An army of frozen ghosts?”

“These look like the cursed figures back at Rose Point,” Nova said, quietly. “Like…like my mother.”

Bastian moved closer to one of them, tentatively circling the stoic figure. The buttons on the soldier’s jacket glistened with a hint of movement—no more than a breath, the faintest hint of life beneath its condemned shell.

“That aligns with the theory we’ve discussed,” said Bastian. “This kind of curse seems to befall those who are caught in the crossfire of warring energies from the separate realms. As for what’s happening here…” He looked to the sky as it began to ebb back to the soft shade of glowing white from earlier.

“It’s nothing but warring energies in this realm,” I thought aloud.

He nodded in solemn agreement. “I suspect if we stayed here long enough, we’d end up as similar victims of those energies.” He lowered his voice toward the end, but the damage was already done; urgent chatter broke out among our own soldiers, and some of them looked back toward the hill we’d descended, likely wondering if it was too late to retreat.

Cowardly, maybe, but I couldn’t exactly blame them. We had no way of knowing how much time we had before the ill effects of this realm—whatever they would be—started to take hold.

“So it seems the realm itself has done its part to slow Lorien and his minions down…could we really be so lucky?” wondered Captain Voss, carefully weaving his way in between the frozen figures.

I frowned but held my tongue. It saved us a battle, maybe, but nothing about this seemed lucky . And it felt as if these living ghosts were all still watching us—more monsters just waiting to spring to life at our first misstep.

“Let’s hurry up and find the Stone before our luck runs out,” Thalia suggested.

Another slight tremor shook the earth, and I found myself quickly agreeing with her. “We should divide into groups and start searching. It’s somewhere within the palace grounds, correct?”

“According to almost every account I’ve read on the subject,” Bastian confirmed.

Nova was hesitant to divide our forces, but another dramatic shifting of energy in the sky ultimately convinced her. “…Make sure each group has a necromancer among them,” she ordered, “so they can send shadows—a signal of some kind—for any discovery or trouble they run into.”

The details were settled, the groups decided on, and Nova and I were joined by Captain Voss and a few soldiers as we made our way to the left side of the palace. We were forced to sweep wider and wider in an effort to avoid more and more rubble, as well as great craters that looked as though they could have— should have—swallowed the entire palace whole.

The destruction only grew worse as we continued to explore. It was a wonder any of it was standing at all, and a challenge just to get close to it, much less to thoroughly explore it.

Captain Voss pressed on with a methodical, tireless determination. His soldiers followed his example. Nova appeared equally dauntless on the outside, but I could sense her frustration growing, her magic becoming more and more restless with every dead end we reached.

I started to suggest we head back to the central courtyard, and perhaps reconvene with some of the others, when a strange light caught my eye—a flare of gold that illuminated a corner we’d yet to explore.

Searching for the source of that light proved fruitless. And there was nothing that immediately stood out in this forgotten corner, even as I moved closer…only a staircase, half-buried in the debris of the collapsed palace, its steps partially obscured by a tree that had grown twisted and bent around it.

Yet, something about it called to me.

As I ascended the stairs, I realized the palace had once soared much higher than its ruins suggested. At the top of the steps, I entered what had clearly been a vast room on a second story; fragments of marble flooring inlaid with delicate gold patterns lay scattered about, and broken columns stood at even intervals.

The walls had all crumbled away, allowing my gaze to spot an interesting sight in the distance: Some fifty feet away, a massive, circular chamber jutted out, seemingly untouched by the cursed energies that had destroyed so many other parts of the structure.

It stood high in the air, held aloft by four towering marble pillars branded with markings that gleamed brightly. A narrow bridge of carved stone, worn with age but still sturdy-looking, connected it to the main palace—to one of the few sections of that main palace that also seemed to still be sturdy.

I heard Nova following me up the stairs. She gasped as she reached the top, catching sight of the suspended room. She rushed closer, tripping over pieces of debris in her haste, her gaze never leaving the strange, circular structure.

Captain Voss and our soldiers caught up as well. While Nova continued to explore the room and the pillars holding it up, we searched the surrounding areas for any potential threats.

Once I was satisfied no one was hiding in the rubble to ambush us, I joined Nova in the shadow of the room. I paced between the columns, brushing my fingers over the strange symbols etched in gold, trying—unsuccessfully—to decipher their meaning.

“This could be it,” Nova said, her eyes locked on the bottom of the chamber. “Look at that.” She pointed to an engraved circle with lines radiating from its center and a crescent shape curving away from it on either side. “It’s similar to the mark of the Vaelora that I saw on Lorien’s arm. And that one next to it…”

I studied it along with her. It featured a crescent shape, as well, but one turned horizontally, its open ends curling inward as if trying to close the gap. Suspended within that gap was a black teardrop. “The mark of the Shadow Vaelora, maybe?”

Nova was quiet for a long moment before seeming to make up her mind. Looking to the bridge, she said, “I want to go inside.”

A warning skipped through me at the words, but I made myself nod; we’d come too far to turn back now.

It took a bit of exploring, climbing over crumbling walls and leaping across precarious patches of flooring, but we eventually found a way into the palace, and then up to the room that allowed us to access the bridge.

Our footsteps echoed and stirred up dust, regardless of how carefully we stepped. The space on this side of the bridge was vast, its ceiling dizzyingly high. It looked like it had been a grand entrance atrium at one point—to a throne room, perhaps; through a crack in a pair of doors hanging crooked on their hinges, I saw a room with an ornate chair in its center, its back high and trimmed in threads that shimmered faintly in the dim light.

I turned away from it, focusing on the bridge. But as I braced my hand against a leaning column, fighting off a cough triggered by dust, an odd image flickered into my mind: Those crooked doors behind me swinging open to reveal the throne in all its splendor—no, thrones .

There were two.

Two empty thrones draped in flowers, centered in a room filled with people silently bowing their heads.

My curiosity almost won, urging me to turn around and look closer, to see what visions I might be able to draw out of the other pieces of this broken palace.

Nova’s voice stopped me at the last instant: “Are you coming?”

Captain Voss joined us at that moment as well, and he nodded toward the bridge, which Nova had already stepped onto. “We should stay together.”

I agreed, though the urge to glance back followed me onto the bridge, along with the growing sense that we were missing something. It was only the three of us—with the rest of our search group scattered close by in the ruins below, keeping a lookout—but suddenly I felt as if the entire realm were pressing in around us, intently watching our next moves.

Before I could speak any of these fears aloud, I lifted my eyes to the room ahead.

And I immediately forgot about everything else.

Because the way into that circular, suspended room was clear, with both Grimnor and Luminor balanced on either side of its open door.