Chapter Nine
The release of zirilium I received after sessions with the prisoner was so addictive, it was becoming a necessary ritual of sorts. Each time I left his cell, I could think clearly again. Otherwise, I felt like my newfound abilities were trying to devour me from the inside out.
I found that it was not exactly a pleasant experience.
I tossed the small, bloodied dagger onto the table in the corner and listened as the prisoner slumped to the ground, his breathing wet and labored after all I’d done to him.
Hugo had healed him too well after the last time I’d visited, so I’d wanted to make sure he’d remember who he was dealing with after today. He had needed a more permanent reminder.
I tossed the dismembered tip of the prisoner’s finger in the air, catching it and tossing it over and over casually as I turned back to where he lay, clutching his bleeding finger at the base.
“Maybe next time you’ll remember this, and you’ll have some real answers for me.” I spoke quietly, my voice low.
He did little more than painfully grunt in response.
Doing my best to not let my facial features give away any sort of emotion, I refrained from rolling my eyes at the pathetic creature before me.
He looked worse for wear nowadays—he was thin and pale, but as he slowly tilted his head up to meet my gaze, that spark in his eyes remained.
“You won’t make it out of this war alive if you carry on like this, Dimitri. We’ll make sure of it,” he croaked.
I couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped past my lips.
“You and who, Ezra? In case you haven’t noticed, nobody is coming for you,” I hissed, his name sour in my mouth.
He flinched slightly at my words, his form deflating quickly as he paled further—likely from the blood loss. The remains of his shirt had completely charred off after this session, and the bruises and burns were even worse than last time. Honestly, I was surprised he had stayed conscious this long.
Too soon, I thought as I watched his eyes shut and his form slump back to the ground, his body giving out and succumbing to unconsciousness.
I sighed, waiting for Hugo to burst in at any moment to fuss over the male before me.
Yet as time went on, the older trokav never showed up.
This isn’t like him, I thought.
Hugo was very detail oriented, always on time and prepped with extra supplies, just in case. If something was holding him up, it had to be something important.
Well, it had better be, anyway.
Exiting the cell and locking it securely behind me, I walked down the long corridor, still tossing the prisoner’s fingertip into the air and catching it repeatedly.
It wasn’t until I was halfway down the corridor that I heard a soft grunt from far away, in the direction that I had been heading.
Suddenly on edge, I crept down the corridor, placing my feet deliberately so each step was perfectly silent.
I knew I had connections with more zirilium than just fire, but I hadn’t quite figured out how to bend them to my will just yet. Right then, I wished I had taken more time to learn how to do so; other zirilium likely would have been helpful in that situation.
Fortunately, despite my lack of control, I was still aware of the earth surrounding me and the shadows whispering when I walked by.
And that, I had learned, I could use to my advantage.
When I made it to the end of the long corridor, I paused and did my best to focus on what I felt not just physically, but also with the zirilium running through my bloodstream.
Feedback from my zirilium came in waves, the pictures unclear in my mind’s eye, but I could at least decipher through the stone below me that there was nobody waiting to ambush me in the dungeon entryway I was about to step into.
With renewed confidence, I headed into the large room before me and moved for the stairs, knowing I needed to figure out what I had heard a few moments earlier.
I had only made it halfway through the rectangular room when I felt it.
Like a prickle on the back of my neck, I slowly turned on my heels to look to my left. My eyes snagged on the shadows in the corner of the room, but it took a wingbeat for me to realize why.
These shadows didn’t whisper to me like the rest of them.
Without a second of hesitation, I drew a dagger and threw it flawlessly towards the small group of shadows.
Just before the tip of the dagger made contact, the shadows scattered.
They raced toward me, and only once they were positioned in a half circle around me, blocking off the exit, did they materialize from their shadow forms.
And the sight knocked the breath from my lungs.
Before me was my sister.
My twin.
My better half.
Aviva.
The female matched my features exactly. We had the same white hair, the same dual-colored wings, and the same pale skin.
And yet her eyes, the blue ones I had known all my life that mirrored my own, had changed.
Now, one was green—the only physical mark our mother seemed to have left on either of us.
I had convinced myself maybe it had been a trick back at Wittuck Woods—but it seemed it wasn’t.
Aviva truly held the only Southern distinction our mother had left to us.
Besides our zirilium, that was.
Despite that physical difference, when I looked into her eyes, I could still see her. The hope and love in her gaze hadn’t changed.
Sighing a shaky breath of relief that I might just have a chance at getting my sister back, I took a step towards her.
Immediately, the two figures to the left and right of her, both who had cloak hoods obscuring their features, took a step in front of my sister. It was a protective move, and one I was shocked to see.
Who were these strangers to try to keep my twin from me?
Who were Southerners to protect my sister?
Who were they to defy a king?
Yet before I could respond to their disrespect, Aviva finally spoke.
“Stand down.”
The two hooded figures returned to her sides silently, their loyalty unwavering.
Deciding to solely focus on my twin, I held my hands out in front of me and softly spoke her name.
“Aviva.”
Her gaze flickered to my hands, but snagged there before they flickered back up to my face.
It wasn’t until that moment that I realized what I likely looked like right then.
“Don’t worry, the blood isn’t mine,” I reassured her, taking another step forward, my hands still outstretched. Suddenly, the prisoner’s blood coating my skin made me feel suffocated. Dirty, even.
My twin looked toward the tall, broad figure to her right, and he looked towards her a second later.
She dipped her chin in what I could only imagine was a sort of signal between the two of them.
In response, yet without a word, he vanished into shadow and speared off down one of the long corridors into the dungeons.
Now, with just my sister and me—along with her second lackey—I could finally convince her to come home.
“Aviva, I—”
“What’s going on, Dimitri?” she asked, cutting me off before I could make my case before her.
Before I could even greet her, or let her know just how much I had missed her.
“What are you—”
“Our corvids? The ones you had killed? Dimitri, we even sent Teagan, our ambassador, to try to talk to you. You have soldiers stationed along the border to keep us out. So I’ll ask again—what is going on?” she said, her voice more stern than I’d ever heard it before.
“Are you…” I stumbled over my words. “Aviva, are you upset with me?”
I had never convinced the prisoner to admit to how the South had gotten my twin to turn against the North—against me. And in that moment, I began to doubt that there was anything for the prisoner to admit.
“Upset?” she asked, a laugh creeping on the edge of her voice.
“Dimitri, I did what I did to Father that day for you. I wanted you to be free, so you could make better decisions than those that came before us. But instead, it seems like you’re carrying on in their footsteps! Which means it was all for nothing!”
I watched as her eyes watered, her emotions always getting the best of her. That was something I’d always admired about her—how freely and how strongly she felt things.
It was something I wished I didn’t share even a fraction of with her. If I could have erased the complicated mix of emotions whirling around in my chest, I would have in a heartbeat.
“Aviva,” I said gently, trying to calm her down, while also working to keep myself composed—there was still hope. “I understand there’s a lot going on, but surely we can work things out between us. I can help you.”
“Help me?” she questioned.
Dumbfounded and confused, I said, “I can help bring you home, Viva.”
A heart-wrenching feeling I didn’t understand shot through my chest as I watched that hope I’d seen earlier in her eyes go out as I spoke.
“Oh, twin,” she said softly, almost with a hint of pity. “I found my home. And it isn’t here.”
Maybe the prisoner had been right.
Maybe they hadn’t done anything to Viva to turn her against me.
Maybe she’d done this willingly.
And if that was the case, then she truly couldn’t be saved.
Finally realizing how differently we were approaching the situation, but not knowing how to make her see my side in the moment, I slipped into my usual, cold indifference.
Letting that numbness sweep through my heart and mind was the only reason I remained upright.
“You’ve… changed,” I stated slowly, trying to wrap my head around this new reality—the reality that my twin wouldn’t be coming home.
Viva nodded and took a small step forward. “Yes, Dimitri. And you can, too. It doesn’t have to be this way forever. We have the power to fix things.” She paused. “You and me, brother.”
My eyebrows furrowed as I thought about what she was saying.
What did she think was so messed up? What could be fixed, anyways, if she wasn’t willing to even try to return home?
“We can put an end to this war,” she said softly, and I realized she was trying to keep me calm, as though I was the one that needed convincing.
She genuinely didn’t understand.
I could tell by the look in her eyes that she wasn’t joking, or pulling some cruel prank on me. She truly believed what she was saying to be true. Whether they’d brainwashed her or not, this was her new reality.
And there seemed to be no going back.
At the end of the day, she truly was lost to me.
And I wasn’t sure anymore if I could get her back.
But until I could figure it out, she was one of them to me.
With that truth in mind, my emotions swelled—anger, hurt, grief. Using that to fuel me, I conjured a ball of fire to my hand and aimed to strike.
“There is no we anymore, Viva,” I said with cold malice.
Then, I let the flames loose.