Chapter 15
MARLAK
Iwas prepared to burn the entire place all at once, but I hesitate, unwilling to burn Crisine alive. As much as any affection I had for her is long gone, I don’t wish to kill her.
“Who are you?” I ask, wondering if I’ll be able to identify a realistic glamour.
She looks just the same, with her silver hair and copper skin, and gets up from the throne and smiles. “Your friend, Marlak. Haven’t I always been that?”
My heart beats loudly and my head buzzes. I should use my fire—and do it fast, but something’s wrong. Is she his hostage? His ally?
“Where’s the Witch King?”
She approaches me. “You can choose to die or you can choose to join us. There’s still time.”
“Leave,” I say. “I have no wish to hurt you.”
“Oh, you’re so boring.” She pouts then disappears. I feel a hand around my throat, and her voice whispering in my ear. “Pain can be fun.”
I make up my mind in a fraction of a second. If I don’t see the Witch King, there’s only one explanation: he’s her.
I came to do one thing, and I can’t falter now. My mind brings me back to that moment in the island, holding Astra’s hand, feeling her flame, seeing her smile. I trust you, she said.
Now it’s time to trust myself.
The fire magic is not really buried, but dormant.
It’s still part of me—and yet it won’t come.
I conjure a blast of air and push false Crisine and the ghouls away.
Then I think about Astra and her flame. That beautiful, lovely flame.
It was love, hope, joy. That flame is the only thing that can free us.
My fire emerges in a huge blast. All around me, ghouls burn as if they were made of paper. There’s a sound too. A scream. A horrific scream.
A woman screaming. And the smell of hair burning.
I’m in the study again, trying uselessly to call back my fire, to quench it, and yet seeing it getting bigger and bigger.
I’m trying to call it back, I’m trying. Begging for the magic to go away, pleading for the fire to disappear.
Trying to call my water, but it’s so weak.
And they scream. My mother. My sister. The screams are louder than any sound, the fire surrounding me too hot, eating my flesh, my hair, my skin, burning away parts of me.
I’m not myself anymore, there’s only pain and regret and horror.
So much horror. Darkness. Death. Power. Something’s touching my head. A hand.
I’m not in the study room anymore, I’m not. But it’s still burning inside me.
Marlak, wake up. Wake up.
Astra. She’s alive. Unharmed. I open my eyes. There’s no Astra, just horror.
I want to vomit, but then move my eyes away from Crisine’s body.
Part of her skin is burned, and that’s it.
She shouldn’t be dead, I think. I don’t know what happened, but I feel heavy, strange, weak.
Something’s touching my head. Something heavy, odd.
Something… pulling my magic. I’m kneeling on the ground, exhaustion taking over me.
I look up and see an old man with purplish black hair. The Witch King. And I just killed Crisine. I conjure my magic to burn him, but it doesn’t come.
The Witch King laughs. “See? It didn’t hurt to join me. And what mighty magic you have.”
“What did you do to her?”
“Nothing. She came of her own will. Wanted to be my queen.” He laughs. “What a pity you killed her.”
The Witch King sounds quite awake for someone who was beheaded two days ago. I try to conjure some air magic, but it doesn’t come. I need to think fast, and I try to talk to gain time.
“What do you want from me?” I ask.
“Just your magic. Nothing less, nothing more. Your vital force, maybe. You did kill my main power source, king, so I’m afraid you’ll have to replace her.”
More ghouls surround us, and I realize this sanctuary has doors leading to other chambers. It’s still day, so if I fight my way out, I’ll be safe outside, under the sunlight. But with each second, I get weaker and weaker.
I lower my head, escaping the Witch King’s grip, then push his legs to drop him to the ground. When I’m getting up to stab him, my breath stops. Someone’s controlling my air. The Witch King smirks as I feel dizzy, sleepy, then I feel nothing.
ASTRA
Anxiety is going to either consume me or pull me into a dark hole. Marlak should be facing the Witch King at any moment. Will he prevail? Will he be able to use his fire?
And then there’s Tarlia. No sign of Renel and Ziven, no note from them either, even though Lidiane keeps checking.
The three of them could be prisoners now, and that will only further complicate our plans.
The only reason I don’t call back the sundering dagger is that it can’t be stolen.
Even if someone were to take it, they wouldn’t be able to use it.
All I can do is sit with my worry or walk around the island hoping the beautiful scenery will quiet my mind.
It doesn’t.
Then I feel something like a stab, the pain so sharp and real. A vision comes to me of Marlak burning, afraid, surrounded by screams.
Something’s wrong. I know something’s wrong. I stop and take a deep breath. It could be my anxiety speaking. I reach out for our bond like I did when I tried to see if he was in danger in the castle. I reach out—and all I feel is pain, horrific pain.
I run to the house and find Azur and Lidiane sitting in the kitchen.
“Azur, please,” I mutter, breathless because of the tension in my chest. “I’ve saved your life.”
He frowns. “What?”
“Give me your blood.”
“What’s wrong?” Lidiane asks.
“Marlak’s in danger.” I hate to say those words, to feel them as true inside me. “I have to rescue him.”
Azur gets up. “Astra, if you go there, you’ll become the Witch King’s slave, especially if you use my blood. It’s poisoned.”
“I don’t care.” I pull a dagger. “If you won’t give it to me, I’ll take it.”
He narrows his eyes. “Don’t even try.”
“I’m begging you!” My voice is a coarse scream. “You owe me.”
“I’m not going to send you to your death.”
“I don’t care!” I run toward him, dagger in hand, but he pushes me away with a soft blast of air.
He yells, “I’ll make you faint, Astra, if you don’t stop.”
“I’ll kill you if you don’t help me! I’ll kill you.”
This is not working. He’s too stubborn. But I need to get to Marlak. Lidiane is staring at us both with wide eyes, perhaps unsure who to support. Lidiane, who knows none of Azur’s secrets.
I glare at him. “If you don’t give me your blood, I’ll…” I glance at Lidiane and back at him, hoping he takes the hint. “Oh. I will.”
He wrinkles his nose in disgust, but takes a spoon from a table, punctures his palm with a knife, then makes a drop fall on the spoon.
“There,” he says. “If you love death so much, go for it.”
Lidiane places a hand between me and the spoon. “Astra…”
“I have to go,” I say, then look at Azur. “You didn’t hesitate to go to the castle for her. Don’t judge me for doing the exact same thing you did.”
I take the spoon and drink the blood.
“There’s a difference,” he says. “And you might not even be able to transcend to the Shadow Lands.”
“It seems that the Witch King is very good at pulling you. Why wouldn’t he pull your magic?”
Azur crosses his arms. “And that’s the problem.”
Lidiane’s staring at me as if I was about to jump into my grave. “Astra, do you need anything? Talk to us. We can plan a way to make it work.”
My eyes are misty with tears as I shake my head. “I can’t delay. Not even a second.”
Marlak’s life is fading. I can feel it. His magic is fading to the point even our connection is getting weak.
Meanwhile, I feel none of Azur’s power. Maybe it’s the magical poisoning dulling his power, but it can’t be, if he transcended to the castle.
I try to keep searching deep down for the transcending magic and nothing comes, just emptiness and pain. I’m hollow. Powerless.
“Do you want more blood?” he asks as he shows me the gash in his palm.
I shake my head. It shouldn’t make a difference. I’ve gained his transcending magic with nothing but a drop.
Panic is taking over my body, panic and dread as I feel Marlak’s life force vanishing. But I can’t give up. Perhaps more blood is the answer. I’m about to ask for some, when the magic reaches me.
The air around me seems alive, as if it was part of me. I can sense the air coming in and out of Lidiane’s and Azur’s lungs—but I don’t need air magic.
I focus some more. Slowly, familiar places come to my mind. River islands, the heart of magic. No, I shouldn’t think about that. Something’s calling me. Pulling me.
It’s as if a glass dome is protecting me, though. Not glass. The nymphs’ magic.
I head to the edge of the island and jump, using air to push me further, then cushion my fall at the river bank.
Now there’s nothing dulling Azur’s transcending magic coursing through me, and yet I don’t need any effort, don’t need to visualize the old sanctuary where the Witch King was held.
It’s pulling me. All I do is surrender to the pull. The world around me dissolves and becomes darkness and anger and pain.
When there’s light again, it comes from lightstones in that strange, unfinished sanctuary—my grim ancestor’s prison of my grim.
A strong smell of something burned assaults my nose as dozens of ghouls make a circle around something away from the throne. Marlak’s there, I can feel it. The ghouls don’t seem to see me yet and my plan is to blow them. I reach inward for some air magic, but find nothing.
Nothing.
My borrowed magic is gone, just like Azur when we were pulled here. It means I’m defenseless. Cold shivers take my body as I wonder how I’m going to survive this place and escape with Marlak.
I pull my dagger slowly but not silently enough, as some ghouls turn to me. With no time to think, I run in their direction, push some of them aside, and find Marlak fallen on the ground, the Witch King crouched above him.