Chapter 12 #2
The space beyond seemed small, though the exact edges were lost to shadow and the swirling dust kicked up by the shifting walls; for a long moment, we saw nothing definite—just the air glittering with old particles, disturbed after who knew how many years.
Then, the dust began to settle, and light poured in through three narrow skylights cut into the high stone ceiling.
The pale beams revealed a room with walls scorched black in places, and with strange, crooked veins etched into the floor, some of which were faintly glowing.
There were claw marks as well—and these were everywhere.
Deep, violent grooves that made my stomach flutter anxiously.
The brightest beam of light fell directly onto the center of the chamber, locking on an altar slick with what looked like dark and long-dried blood.
A corpse slumped against this altar, head bowed low as if in mourning. Or shame.
We all slowed to a stop, staring at it.
Thalia whispered something under her breath; it sounded like a prayer.
Eamon appeared to be trying to work up the courage to take a closer look.
Zayn coughed and said, “Leave it to the necromancer to lead us to a creepy dead body.”
He let out a grunt as someone jabbed him in the side—Aleks, probably—but I was too focused on slowly making my way forward to pay much attention to what was happening behind me.
There was something…off about this dead body.
It was strangely proportioned, with arms and legs that looked mismatched in length, and a neck that was bent in a way that made its head hang oddly low against its chest. It wore a robe of white, which was bunched up along its back, heaped there as if hiding a mangled spine.
“The body Calista spoke of?” Aleks suggested hopefully.
I wasn’t surprised when Eamon shook his head. “This isn’t Lorien’s body.”
“Of course not,” Thalia muttered. “That would have been too easy.”
The longer I stared at it, the less I was convinced it had ever been human…or one of the Vaelora. The energy surrounding it was similar to the energy that clung to graveyards. But there was something much less…peaceful about it.
Something much more powerful.
Much more chaotic.
One after the other, we found ourselves looking to Eamon for an explanation.
He hesitated, but eventually said, “I think this might be…a sentier. Or what’s left of it.”
“What’s left of a what?” I asked.
Eamon didn’t reply.
Thalia frowned, chancing a step closer. “I remember one of my magic instructors talking about these. But I thought such things were only a legend. Nobody I know of has ever seen an actual manifestation of one.”
“Yes, but what exactly is it a manifestation of?” Zayn questioned.
Eamon didn’t seem eager to explain, for once, so Thalia continued: “Sentiers are a by-product of extremely powerful Vaeloran magic. Such magic leaves a permanent mark on the world, and the residual energy left behind often forms into a living being. Usually, they’re semi-divine, intelligent creatures that serve a purpose tied into whatever spell the Vaelora cast upon a particular place. ”
“So this one is more proof that Calista did use extremely powerful magic in this palace?” Aleks asked.
“Seems like it.”
I studied it more closely. Its limbs, unnaturally thin and oddly jointed.
Its skin, a ghastly shade of grey and hanging too loosely in too many places.
Its face, hidden in shadow and by the tilt of its head…
From this angle, I could just make out a mouth hanging open, frozen with sharp rows of teeth on display.
It didn’t look like a divine being.
It looked like a monster.
And, not for the first time since I’d learned of the curse on Lorien, I found myself wondering about the motivations and consequences of what Calista had done.
“If it’s a by-product of the spell Calista used against Lorien, then it likely knew details about it,” I said.
Aleks cast an uneasy look at the doorway. “Which may be why someone trapped it behind these walls and left it to die. Someone didn’t want that curse undone. Our mysterious Order friends, I’m guessing?”
“My thoughts as well,” Eamon agreed, grimly.
It took me only a moment to decide what to do next. “I want to try and read its memories.”
A ripple of uncertainty swept through the others, but I remained insistent.
“It shouldn’t be difficult, right?” I said. “It isn’t as though it has a lifetime of complicated thoughts to sort through. And if it’s truly a living embodiment—well, was a living embodiment—of the very curse we’re trying to make sense of, then I have to try.”
No one managed to come up with a convincing argument against this.
“…Be careful,” said Aleks.
“I always am,” I replied.
He let out a quiet, disagreeing laugh at this before gently weaving a spiral of light around me.
With his protective warmth pressing against my body, I closed the remaining space between me and the sentier’s corpse.
The rest of the room seemed to fade away until it was only me and that bundle of white robes and ghastly limbs. Me and the air that seemed to be growing colder by the second. Me and the pungent taste of ash and salt that suddenly coated my tongue…
I placed a hand on the creature’s long neck.
Somehow, I kept my arm steady, even though touching the sentier was like plunging my hand into a bucket of icy water. My fingers went numb. The sensation slowly swept up to my head, threatening to freeze away my thoughts.
The warmth of Aleksander’s magic became a distant memory.
Steady, I commanded myself and my shadows, which were starting to bloom beneath the surface of my skin.
Just before I attempted to delve into the sentier’s memories, a sudden, twisting pressure closed around my heart and lungs. Then released. Then grabbed again. It was as if I held one end of a rope, and something else was swiping at the other, desperately trying to get a firm grip on my magic.
The moment it truly latched on, my feet were nearly jerked out from under me by its sudden, violent hold.
“Let go.” The words trembled through my lips.
The pulling grew stronger, and I would have sworn I heard a whisper of a voice speaking into my thoughts. It said only one word—
Mine.
This creature was the by-product of powerful necromancy; was some part of it still clinging to existence, desperate for more Shadow magic to feed it?
Did it have my magic confused with Calista’s?
The air around me felt like it was closing in.
MINE!
Release me! I thought back, fighting to remain calm. You have no claim to these shadows!
The feeling in my chest tightened one last time before finally relenting. As the pressure slipped away, I exhaled a tense breath, blinking several times to try and bring my focus back.
The sentier was moving.
Its robes billowed. The body beneath it bulged. The hump at its back was shifting, breaking through the folds of white cloth to reveal…something. Not the mangled, protruding spine I expected to see, but…
Wings.
It had wings—though they were mostly bone, and covered in a membrane so papery thin that I couldn’t imagine them lifting even its emaciated body.
Its muscles flexed and shivered. Its ashen skin glistened. Its eyes opened, two bright slashes of molten silver glaring directly into mine.
As I stared back, I heard that whisper in the back of my mind again, only clearer now, its voice haunting and wild and full of warning—like the creaking branches of a forest caught in the breeze of an approaching storm.
So. You have come back to free me.
“...Back?”
It stretched its wings before giving several quick flaps, stirring up dust and bits of my shadows.
“I’m not the one who created you.”
Another haunting whisper grated through my thoughts: You created my prison.
“Wrong again.”
I am no fool. I remember your eyes. You watched from the other side of the wall.
Arguing seemed pointless. So, I tried a more direct question: “Do you know how you were created? What you came from?”
It tilted its head, the motion almost birdlike. Two more words slipped into my thoughts.
Curse Keeper.
“…That’s right,” I said carefully. “You are. Which means you can help me.”
It cocked its head further. Then its mouth split into a horrible grin, sharp teeth parting to let out a noise caught somewhere between a bark and a yowl. Laughter, maybe. It made me want to drop to my knees and clamp my hands over my ears.
With a single flap, its wings proved more functional than anticipated, propelling it upward in a wild, ungraceful leap. It careened toward the ceiling only to twist violently and dive back down, heading straight toward me.
I rolled aside, landing in a crouch just outside of its reach.
It hit the stone floor, its too-long arms stretching forward, bracing and bending and then immediately launching it back into flight. Letting out a guttural cry, it shot higher, perching in the corner, balancing on a wooden beam that buckled and groaned under its weight.
With a snap of its long neck, the creature expelled a breath of shadow-tinged mist. The taste of salt and ash once again filled the air.
My own shadows billowed as the mist met them, seemingly absorbing it.
I felt the weight of both our powers rolled into one, so heavy it nearly made me panic, until I realized…
If our magic was born of the same darkness, then why should I fear it?
I spun around to warn the others away—to assure them I could handle this—only to find they were already gone.