Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
FINLEY
The warm wind whipped around me, howling across the cliffs like it knew what trembled beneath my skin. Death stirred inside me, restless and gluttonous, but this time Hoshiko wasn’t with me to restrain the storm.
Instead, I’d trekked alone, and despite the many hours that had passed, I still tasted Brenton on my lips and yearned to feel him again.
The desolate ridge beckoned me with the jagged stones beneath my boots, blackened from when I’d released my magic a few beats ago. It hadn’t been enough, and my hands trembled with the power that coiled in my veins. Too big, too loud, too hungry.
I took in a deep breath, giving my magic room to rise, this time slower.
On an exhale, I released a pulse of death, much larger than I’d wanted. It vibrated in the air, and for a few beats, it drained light from the very sky. At my feet, the grass curled and died.
Still, it wasn’t enough.
Not even the bird that fell at my feet satiated my magic.
I stepped away from the edge, and an anguished scream tore from me. “What more do you want from me?” I spun a circle, needing to find blame in someone, anyone but me.
Magic surged, flooding out of me, damning the world closest to me in death.
Then silence. Not even the wind wanted me to be aware of its presence.
But I wasn’t alone. I sensed a brush of a presence not quite known but not entirely foreign either.
I turned, breath ragged, and my magic pulsed inside me like a second heartbeat.
Zaicha stood, tall and confident, her dark hair curling with the wind. Her expression was soft and almost pained as she watched me without judgment.
“You’re hurting,” she said. “I could feel your pain from where I was.”
My hands curled into fists. “Where were you? Why are you here?”
Zaicha stepped forward, her posture relaxed and her hands at her sides.
“That pull inside you isn’t rage,” she said. “It’s memory. Your magic remembers what it once was before it was fractured.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I can help you.” Her voice was so calm, so certain. I wanted to believe her. No, needed to. “Will you allow me to help you?”
My mind flashed to the forest in Niev. How she’d saved the pixies from my destructive magic. How she’d controlled my magic as if she understood it. I remembered how she hadn’t flinched but had offered words of comfort.
“How can you help me?” I turned toward the edge, overlooking the expanse of the open ocean.
“I can absorb it and take it from you.”
I recoiled at the thought of stripping myself of my magic. Though it may be volatile, it was still mine.
“Why do you want it?” I asked.
“Because I understand it,” she said. “Death magic isn’t evil. It’s the living breath of cosmic balance. It’s the decay so that something else may bloom.”
Zaicha drew closer, her voice a whisper from behind me.
“The magic was never intended for a single mortal plane,” she said. “It was meant to be shared. You can share it with me if you choose.”
“Share?” I asked. “Or give it to you fully? You said you could take it from me. Which is it you want?”
“The question is not what I want, but what you want.” She tipped her head to the side.
“You can share however much you wish, or you can keep it all. It is your magic, so the choice is yours, Finley.” She studied me for long, quiet beats.
“For you to feel comfortable with your magic, I believe you must understand it. You see, your magic isn’t simply power, but a passage.
It holds the key to release many tired souls trapped in the astral realm.
” She paused. “They’re forgotten and lost. They’ve waited for thousands of years to be released so that they may finally rest. Instead, they’re trapped.
Until you. Until the death god, himself, gave you this magic. ”
Her words swam in my head. I tried to make sense of them. “I don’t understand.”
Her smile was warm but sorrowful. “How could you when no one has taken the time to explain it to you? What matters is that you can fix it. Your magic can release those tired souls, and I can help you do that. Will you permit me to train with you? As we train, I can explain more.”
“These trapped souls, what if they shouldn’t be released?” I asked, thinking of Leonora. “Maybe they’re trapped for a reason.”
“You know of the orb the vengeful mage used to trap magic,” she said. “The orb’s birth created an imbalance with its magic. Your magic can purify the orb’s corrupted core and recalibrate the flow of magic between realms.”
My thoughts tumbled together, tangling in my mind with too many questions.
“These trapped souls,” I started, trying to understand her words. “Are they stuck in the orb? Is that why it’s corrupted?”
“Yes,” she answered, angling her head as she studied me with open, curious eyes almost the same shade of silver as mine.
Too many fae had died, their magic leeched by the mage, and now even in death, they continued to suffer.
“I can show you how to right the many wrongs the mage caused. Or if you’ll permit me, I can absorb it and take it with me to the astral realm, where it belongs,” she said.
“One way or the other, we’ll release what’s been trapped and free the forgotten souls.
We’ll restore what’s been corrupted and rebalance before it takes any more from anyone else.
The dragas, the younglings, the hatchlings, they will all stop dying.
The fae’s magic will be restored. All will be balanced the way it once was. ”
I stared at my hands, unblinking, while I took in her words.
“The magic that’s malfunctioning, what’s wrong in Vistos—it’s all connected?”
“It is.”
“And you can fix it?” I asked, hopeful and scared.
“We can fix it.”
“If you absorb my magic, what will be left of me?” My hands trembled with the magic inside me stretching.
“You will finally be free.” When she stood at my side, she placed a soft hand on my shoulder.
Where so many feared me, she offered comfort.
“If that is what you choose, I wouldn’t absorb it all at once.
You can give it to me, little by little.
Enough that it’ll ease your burden without harming you. ”
I swallowed past the thickness in my throat and nodded. The thought of being free of my magic, of simply being me, was almost unbearable. Both a dream and a terror.
Who would I be without my magic? What could I be if I were free from it?
Zaicha squeezed my shoulder. “We have a chance to heal all the realms, Finley, and in doing so, you will finally be free.”
Hope soared, fragile but fierce.
“Yesterday, I felt the attack on the hatchling before it happened.” My hands shook at the memory, at the helplessness of fighting the unknown.
“As did I.”
“Could you not stop it or . . . contain it the way you’ve done with my magic?” I watched the emotions that flickered across her face.
“No.” Her lips pulled down as her brows drew together. “I cannot help the people or dragons of this realm. At least not yet.”
“But you can help them?” I waited for her to nod. “Will you speak to King Elias and Kassidy about this?”
Her eyes darkened. “If you wish me to speak to Kassidy, I will do so. But first, I want you to reflect on my words and make a decision. Then we’ll meet with her together.”
“Will you not meet with my king?” I asked, my pulse quickening at the heat behind her eyes.
“I have no love for the fae.” Her canines lengthened, slipping past her parted lips.
I lifted my chin. “I am fae.”
Her features softened with her hesitant smile. “You are so much more, Finley. If it is important to you, your king may also be present. Until then, will you permit me to teach you about your magic?”
I nodded, and for the first time, I permitted myself to imagine a future not bound in duty or fear, but by choice. A life where my magic no longer ravaged and consumed me. A future where I stood at Brenton’s side.
Unburdened. Unapologetic. Mine.
Ours.
But then footsteps padded toward me, as silent as a hunter’s breath. My muscles coiled, and in a beat, Zaicha disappeared.
Inside me, my magic hummed, for the moment content to lie still.
I turned at Everly’s approach, my brows pinched together at the sword she wielded. She drew out a long breath before she put her blade away.
“I thought I heard someone else,” she said, her shoulders losing some of their tension. Then her attention dropped to the charred grass at my feet. “What is this?”
I rubbed my neck but kept my attention on her. “I was training.”
She nodded, understanding softening her features. “Since our magic became unpredictable, I often train in the mornings. Perhaps, we could train together?”
I narrowed my eyes, searching for deception in her tone. “I don’t think that would be wise.”
“I have been unkind to you,” she admitted, lifting her hands in small surrender.
“Brenton is one of my oldest friends, and I don’t like the ways you’ve hurt him, but it isn’t my place to treat you poorly because of it.
You have my apologies, Finley, and if you are willing, I’d like us to attempt to be friends. ”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the dry laugh from slipping out. “Was it Brenton or our king who ordered you to speak to me?”
She grimaced, but her eyes didn’t hold any of the coldness I’d grown accustomed to. “When Brenton returned, they both strongly suggested I apologize and make amends.”
“You’ve done so.” My magic sparked at my fingertips, and I fisted my hands to hold it back.
The fact that she’d shown no hesitation to apologize made me appreciate her more.
She had had Brenton’s back so many times in battles over the years, for which I was thankful.
And she was willing to apologize humbly. Why would my magic spark in anger then?