Chapter 60 The Void
The Void
Zola
M
ial, for all he knew of Aurora, was nearly oblivious to her power. Some might say he was blinded by his ambitions, or perhaps by the baby.
Aurora met Mial in the courtyard before the Pyre Tree. Hundreds of Phoenicians stood beside her. In a short time, she had become their queen. This was more insulting to Mial than anything—that they would follow her instead of him.
He deserved to be followed.
“We don’t have to fight,” Mial announced. “Lay your arms down.”
Aurora stepped forward, not offering a word. It was here that he understood the true wrath of a woman scorned.
And he had scorned the most powerful of all.
Silently, she raised her hand, a yellow gleam, bright as the sun, tucked between her palm. The Memorium.
Mial laughed through his fear. “And what do you plan to do with that?”
Aurora smiled as her second hand rose, the Soul Ruby clutched between her fingers.
He choked out another laugh. “My dear,” he said. “My love! We’ve misunderstood one another.”
He moved forward, barely managing a step. An explosion of crimson cascaded from the stone, engulfing the world. It mixed with the azure sky, turning first to a shade of purple as the blue was quickly washed out, dominated by the red. Strands of yellow pushed through, swirling like smoke.
Mial could feel what was happening. The yellow magic wound around him in suffocating spirals, damning him. The memory of him evaporated from people’s minds like morning dew.
Though, it wasn’t just Mial that was lost.
It was the memory of all he ever was.
?
Cynthia Constance was the last person standing on Iris.
One by one, the Phoenicians who fought for Aurora’s honor fell. Aurora had drawn on their power until nothing remained. The creation of The Void—and the force it demanded—was more than Iris could endure.
The world burned. On that, at least, the stories did not lie. The kingdom collapsed beneath ash, towns screamed beneath pillars of flame, and the sky itself seemed to come undone.
And yet—Cynthia remained.
The inferno bent around her but never touched her. Flames curled at her feet and recoiled. Smoke parted before her breath. It was as though the conflagration knew her name and dared not speak it.
While the world dissolved into cinders, she stood untouched at the center of the ruin—almost godly.
She stepped forward and knelt beside Aurora’s body, so badly burned it scarcely resembled a corpse. Between the ashen fingers, the Soul Stones were still clutched.
Cynthia Constance pulled them free.